


Mono no Aware

by Saranel



Series: Mono no Aware [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Adventure, Childhood, Drama, F/M, Falling In Love, Friendship, Humor, POV Third Person, Pendulum Arc, Pre-Series, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-02-20 09:19:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 333,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2423447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saranel/pseuds/Saranel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a Shinigami, he was taught to respect the cycle of life and death. As a scientist, he learned to accept the transience of all things subject to inevitable entropy and decay. As a man, he fought to hold on to the few constants in his ever-shifting world. An Urahara & Yoruichi character study, from childhood to the end of the Fake Karakura Town arc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catching up on Bleach has rekindled my interest in fanfiction, but I've been away from the fandom long enough to have forgotten some things about the universe. I've used as much canon information as I could find about Kisuke and Yoruichi's past and filled in the gaps myself, but I may have missed something. If you notice any mistakes, please point them out so they can be edited, if possible. Any other CC is greatly appreciated. 
> 
> The way I've planned this story out, it should cover about 20 chapters or so, exploring Kisuke and Yoruichi's life from childhood to the end of the Fake Karakura Town arc. The format of every chapter, as of the moment, is meant to be an intro from the human world where Kisuke was exiled to, followed by flashbacks to past events (a little like LOST, for those of you familiar with the series). This may change in the future if I think the pacing of a chapter is better served by past events only, but either way, every scene will be prefaced by a datestamp to avoid any confusion. 
> 
> Since I'm still catching up on the more recent manga events myself, I'm a little hazy on newer storylines, and Aizen's defeat is a good enough point to end this story as it provides ample closure on what we know of Kisuke's life. There's a rumor going around that the current manga arc might even be Bleach's last, so here's hoping I can churn these out fast enough before Tite Kubo goes ahead and reveals enough backstory to make this irrelevant before it's even complete.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

**FEBRUARY **21 ST**,1901 A.D., KARAKURA TOWN, JAPAN**

 

A few miles off the outskirts of Tokyo, in the small settlement of Karakura, the abandoned two-story building stood out within the bustling town like a ghostly remnant of the Edo Period.  In the few decades it had taken for Karakura to turn from a poor farmland to a slowly developing industrial hub, the abandoned house hadn't changed one bit.  As if frozen in time, it forever reminded the citizens of a past not too long gone.  If asked, any man, woman or child in Karakura would insist the building had been left alone due to complications with ownership.  After all, superstitions and a belief in fables did not become of a people whose country was galloping forward into the new century.    

 

Even so, Koizumi Haruka gave the building a wide berth as she strolled back home after a visit to the marketplace.  It seemed to be the natural inclination of every other resident or passer-by in their neighborhood, but if she was being honest with herself, she often felt drawn to it instead.  The legends surrounding the house were the kind of thing never discussed openly in the presence of company, yet somehow, every single citizen, old or new, seemed to be all too familiar with them.  Her own family had moved into the house right across a scant two weeks ago, and they already knew more than enough.  The young girl realized that dwelling on the matter was an exercise in futility; despite her keen desire to plough into the mysteries of the house, she knew herself well enough to be certain she would never set foot anywhere near it.

 

Still, she could never resist a look at its windows every now and then as she settled into bed.  From time to time, she thought she could make out shadows moving behind the dirty, opaque glass. 

 

On such nights, her dreams were filled with piercing, agonized howls and the soundless fluttering of black butterflies.

 

 

* * *

 

 **mono no aware** 物の哀れ

(n.) (phr.) lit. "the pathos of things"; the

gentle wistfulness at the transience of

things, and the awareness of the sadness

of existence

 

* * *

 

 

**APRIL 3 RD, 1901 A.D., KARAKURA TOWN, JAPAN **

 

Urahara Kisuke ran his fingers down the murky surface of the second-story window, drawing a path of three parallel streaks.  Through the clear slits of glass, he peered down into the empty street outside.  The front door of the house right across theirs opened, revealing who Kisuke assumed was the youngest daughter of the family that had recently moved into the neighborhood.  Rubbing her hands against her folded arms, the girl made her way out into the porch, lighting the few lanterns hanging from the canopy.  As she hurried back inside and out of the cold and the rain, she paused for a second by the threshold, looked once over her shoulder, then closed the door behind her. 

 

It had to be some sort of cosmic joke, he mused, the appearance of this family only days after he and his fellow travelers had settled into the abandoned building.  In a town otherwise devoid of spiritual sentience, the girl was the only one with a fleck of sensitivity for their kind.  He knew she was unable to see them; in fact, he'd tested that theory himself, but her awareness seemed to grow in miniscule increments every day.  He had no way of being certain if she would ever reach a level that might pose any threat to them, but by then, their preparations to deal with humans face-to-face should be long done.  The only question was whether her powers would draw the attention of a Hollow in the future, thus raising the need for the presence of Death Gods in the area. 

 

For her sake as well as theirs, he hoped the day they had to leave their new home would never come.

 

Well… Perhaps the word 'home' was somewhat of a stretch. 

 

The two-story house was simply the first available shelter they'd found that night.  At least that's what he'd led everyone else to believe.  Kisuke had had some initial reservations about his choice of Karakura, but he opted to keep them to himself.  When the Thirteen Divisions came after them, they would undoubtedly consider checking all the places Kisuke was familiar with first, and Karakura had been one of his first assignments in the human world.  This building in particular faced the backyard where he'd defeated one of his first Hollows.  His choice had less to do with any sentimental reasons, and more to do with the simple fact that this was the one place in the human world he knew best of all.  He had enough faith in his inventions to cloak them from any unwanted visitors from Soul Society, and he figured that hiding exactly where everyone expected him to be would be seen as counter-intuitive for someone like him. 

 

Still, there were those in Soul Society who understood him well enough to be able to call his bluff.  One person in particular came to mind.  However, Kisuke had the distinct impression Aizen simply wouldn't bother pursuing him, at least for the time being.  So far, he appeared to be right in his assessment.

 

In the two months since their escape from Soul Society, their base of operations hadn't changed much.  Tessai's barriers made certain to conceal all light and mute any sounds to the outside world; keeping up the appearance of an abandoned building was paramount, but none of them seemed to be willing to put any effort into improving the interior.  Save from the one room upstairs where they slept and shared their meals, the remainder of the house was in a sorry state.  The floors and scant furnishings were still covered in a thick veil of dust, and the only spots that had been given the slightest amount of attention were a few broken windows and cracks in the floor which had to be sealed to keep the cold at bay.  

 

Maybe they were all hoping this was only a temporary hiding place.

 

Hearing the floorboards creak behind him, Kisuke tore his gaze away from the rain-pelted street and looked over his shoulder.  Hirako was approaching him, adjusting the sash of his drab, light grey kimono.  It had been nearly a month now that he had become stable, but Kisuke still never failed to feel relief at the sight of his normal face.  "How does it fit?" Kisuke asked him, referring to the clothes. 

 

Securing period-appropriate clothing and footwear for all of them had been a monster of a task, but Tessai had delivered.  All ten kimono and black haori were identical in color and shape, making Kisuke wonder briefly just where Tessai had unearthed them from.  They only differed in size and Kisuke's was a little snug around the shoulders, but otherwise perfectly passable. 

 

Hirako shrugged at the question, running his palms over the starchy material at the front.  "It'll do.  Now, the body is another story…" he said with a grimace, holding up his own right hand and inspecting it from all possible angles.

 

Kisuke turned around to face him fully, leaning against the one spot in the wall behind him that wasn't cobweb-infested.  "That's to be expected.  It's when it starts feeling a little too comfortable that you should worry.  Leaving a gigai when you're too attuned to it will not be pleasant," he said.

 

"Well, it's done everything you promised it would," Hirako said, giving his hand a shake and letting it fall to his side.  "I didn't come here to complain about it, anyway," he said.  For a moment, he hesitated before speaking again.  "Listen, Kisuke—"

 

"You're going," Kisuke finished for him, having expected this conversation for a while now.  There was no rancor in his voice as he said it, but he couldn't deny their company would be missed.  This wasn't a reality any of them would be getting used to any time soon, and being surrounded by familiar faces, especially friends, had made the transition a little easier to take.  Still, he could see why they were choosing to leave.  Despite every piece of their former selves they'd been able to hold on to, they were different now.  They needed to find their own place in the world, and commiserating about their collective status as exiles would benefit no-one.  A separation was imminent and there was no need to prolong it.

 

"Yeah," Hirako said.  "Might as well, right?  Was bound to happen at one point or another."

 

Kisuke simply nodded, folding his arms in front of his chest.  "Are you leaving Karakura?"

 

"Probably," Hirako said, his eyes shifting toward the room where the rest of his companions sat, already packed to leave at a moment's notice by the looks of it.  None of them were speaking to each other, nor were they making eye-contact.  "Might wander for a while, see what's out there."

 

Kisuke's eyes fell upon Hiyori.  For such a petite person, she had never looked her size in all the time they'd spent together.  Her bristly demeanor and no-nonsense attitude tended to make others overlook the height difference.  Tonight, she looked truly small for the first time in all the nine years he'd known her.  "How's… How's Hiyori?" he asked, swallowing hard.

 

Hirako scoffed at the sound of that.  "As if she'd ever tell me.  But you know her; she'll be fine."

 

Kisuke let out a sigh and nodded again, slowly letting his head fall back against the wall.  "I guess."

 

"Hey, none o' that crap," Hirako said, suddenly reaching out and grasping the front of Kisuke's clothes, forcing them to lock gazes again.  "Don't go blaming yourself for this.  Don't you _dare_."

 

Kisuke shook his head, feeling the ridiculous urge to break into hysterical laughter.  "You warned me," he said, looking at Hirako without really seeing him.  

 

It had taken sixty one days, but their reality had finally, truly hit him, now that there was no mystery to solve or a project to sink his teeth in.  Even in that respect, he'd failed spectacularly.  For once, he had no answers.  The vaccine he'd administered back in Soul Society had stopped the change, but the only progress they'd been able to make since then was suppress their inner Hollows, and there was no telling how long that would last.  Without the materials and equipment in his lab, he could do nothing more for them.  They were stuck, all of them, in a world where the available resources and technology might never catch up to their needs. 

 

Had they really been so naïve as to think they could escape Soul Society forever?  And even if they did, what next?  Panic surging out of him, Kisuke was unable to contain his laughter anymore.  Exiled, alone, hunted by a force which not only outnumbered them, but had the resources to outmaneuver them as well.  And still no sign of Yoruichi.  It felt like he was being held down underwater, his arms paralyzed, Aizen's face looming over the surface of the water.  _How_?  How had he not seen?  How had he not—

 

"You warned me," Kisuke repeated.  "You _told_ me he was up to something.  _Years_ ago," he said.  "And I… I knew… I've known, ever since he was a kid, that something—"

 

Hirako let go of Kisuke, frowning.  "Yeah, well… I wasn't exactly prepared for this, either.  So I guess it's on both of us."

 

Running a hand through his hair, Kisuke let out a few final, hollow chuckles, trying to regain his composure.

 

"Which is why," Hirako went on.  "When you get around to paying that son-of-a-bitch back, I want in."

 

That effectively sobered Kisuke up.  His entire body went stiff, as he and Hirako shared a look that conveyed enough without any need to speak.  Kisuke hadn't said a word or even _thought_ about revenge ever since they'd arrived at the human world.  There had simply been no time to focus on anything other than working on reversing Hollowification.  In the precious few moments in between rest and work, his thoughts had never strayed away from the one person whose absence was becoming not only unbearable, but more and more worrisome every day.  And yet, when Hirako spat out the words, his eyes darkening, Kisuke realized that paying Aizen back for every life he'd destroyed had always been a given.  He hadn't even considered it, because there was never any doubt in his mind that Aizen would get what was coming to him, sooner or later.

 

It was a fool's hope, perhaps.  It had been only a moment ago that he'd truly taken a look at their situation and nearly crumbled, but something in Hirako's voice instilled a little warmth into Kisuke's cold insides.  He'd promised them all, hadn't he, that he'd find a way?

 

 _A fool's hope, no doubt._  

 

"You bet…" Kisuke said, feeling his face break into a smile for the first time since leaving Soul Society.  "…Shinji."

 

Hirako let out a groan, shaking his head at him.  " _Nine_. _Years_.  Nine _damn_ years of hearing your sorry ass call me Hirako even when you were drunk as a skunk, and _now_ you call me Shinji?  _Bastard._ "

 

They shared a moment of pure, unadulterated laughter, the first not to be brought on by hysteria.  It felt like catharsis.  Like the beginning of something, rather than a goodbye.

 

The exchange drew the attention of everyone else as well.  It wasn't often that any sound other that sighs of frustration echoed through these walls, as the eight former Death Gods came up against wall after wall in their efforts to reverse the Hollowification process.  The haphazardly-built room below the foundations of the building held an equally grim aura; Kisuke hadn't had the heart to expand it, both because it was too much of a reminder of his previous life, and because it had been tainted by the wraithlike wails of his friends, during  their struggle to master themselves and tame their inner Hollows.  The mere notion of laughter in this house of despair was outlandish enough, let alone the actual deed, and it turned the heads of Hirako's companions.

 

Hiyori in particular gave both of them her signature displeased grimace and got up, making her way over to them.  "What are you two idiots laughing about?" she asked, resting a hand on her hip.  "Go on, spit it out.  We could all use a laugh; it's been like a cemetery in here for ages." 

 

Kisuke turned to look at her, now understanding that their time together was limited; if he waited until he was able to pluck up the courage to approach her first, she would leave before he got the chance to say everything he'd been meaning to tell her.  "Hey, Hirako—" Kisuke said.

 

"Ugh, _seriously_?  It's back to Hirako now?"

 

Kisuke grinned at him.  "Can I have a moment?"  He motioned toward Hiyori with his head.

 

The scowl left Hirako's face, only to be replaced with a softer expression, one Kisuke wouldn't have associated with him before.  "Yeah, sure.  Take all the time you want," he said, sauntering away to give him and Hiyori some privacy.

 

"If I hear anything sappy leave your mouth, I'm outta here," Hiyori was quick to say the second Hirako left, glaring at Kisuke.

 

He hadn't really thought about this until now, but Kisuke suddenly realized this was the first time they'd spoken a word to each other since he'd asked Hiyori to go help the Ninth Division in his stead.

 

_"Sorry, you're the only one I can trust with this."_

_"I'm counting on you, Hiyori."_   

 

 Hirako had told him not to blame himself, but how could he not, when it came to Hiyori?  Yoruichi's admonitions rang in his head even as he felt the guilt bubble up to the surface again.  It was true, Hiyori was more than capable of taking care of herself, but these had been special circumstances and he should have seen it. 

 

"Hiyori…" he began, his gaze slipping down toward the floor.  Saying what he needed to say with her looking at him, seeing right through him, was impossible.  "I—"

 

"If you'd gone yourself, none of us would be alive today," Hiyori said, interrupting him.

 

Kisuke's eyes shot right back at her in shock.  Was he that transparent?

 

Hiyori let out a sigh.  "What, you think I hadn't figured it out?" she said, looking smug.  It was the first change in her darkened expression since they'd stepped foot in the human world.  "You've been giving me puppy eyes for two months now, looking away whenever I caught you staring.  It wasn't hard to guess what was going on in that thing of yours you call a brain."

 

The silence between them stretched out, Kisuke unsure of what to say next as he gave her a reluctant smile.  He could count his true friends in the palm of a single hand and out of all of them, she had been the hardest one to win over.  She needed her time, Hiyori did, but if one bothered to put in the effort, she would be loyal for life.  She hadn't once proven him wrong yet, not even now, when she had every right to.  Kisuke opened his mouth to speak, but swallowed his words right back when he saw the threatening expression on Hiyori's face.  She'd given him ample warning; he was not allowed to veer into sappy territory.  So, instead of saying what he meant to, instead of a goodbye, he said, "Will you guys stay for dinner?  Tessai is making ramen."

 

Hiyori shrugged, looking away.  Kisuke had to wonder if part of her hadn't been longing for some sappiness, after all.  "What's he even making it with?  There hasn't been any fresh meat in the market for days."

 

"I suppose we'll find out soon enough," Kisuke said, shrugging as well. 

 

"Are you trying to poison us?" Hiyori asked, meeting his gaze again, eyes narrowed.

 

"Well… if it'll keep you here a little longer…" Kisuke trailed off, grinning at her. 

 

He saw her lips purse together, trembling ever so slightly.  Her face flushed to a brilliant shade of red and she had to look away once more.  "If I get so much as a whiff of rat, I'm killing both you and Tessai," she muttered, marching her way back to their makeshift bedroom.  "You first.  Slowly.  With a rusty knife."

 

Smiling at her departing form, Kisuke leaned back against the wall.  Speaking to Hirako and Hiyori had been something he'd been dreading for a long while.  Part of him had known all along that the moment this temporary fellowship was over, he would lose all momentum and allow the reality of their situation to sink in.  Their departure would be the final nail in the coffin Aizen had thrust him into: a reminder of his failure to save two of his closest friends and many dear colleagues.  It shamed him to realize that out of their whole group, he was the only one who had almost fallen to pieces, while also being the one who had been affected the least.  If he truly meant to keep his promise to Hirako, he could not allow another meltdown like this.

 

 _All right.  You can have tonight,_ he told himself.  _Just for tonight, after everyone is gone and Tessai asleep, you can wallow in self-pity.  Let it all out, sink into the deepest, darkest hole and then, in the morning, claw your way out again.  Make a plan.  Solve the problem piece by piece.  Keep your promise._

 

Turning to face the window again, Kisuke watched the rain fall across the rooftops of the neighboring houses.  It was a strange little world, this human realm.  Unravelling its secrets while encumbered by the limitations of this body would be a challenge, if nothing else.  He wondered what it would be like, standing under the rain.  Even the simple act of breathing was a learning experience, his mind getting accustomed to the new way he experienced sensations.  Every sound, every scent felt like a cheap facsimile, a distant echo of what it had once been, as though he were trapped under a thick membrane that dulled his senses. 

 

They could not begin to imagine, humans, what it felt like to smell power, hear colors, see the forces of the universe at play with their own eyes.

 

He closed his eyes, sighing.  Would he ever hear it again?  The otherworldly cry of the Hell Butterfly?  Would he ever feel it again?  The intimate touch of two spirit essences, intertwined in harmony?  

 

_Yoruichi…_

 

"LORD URAHARA!"

 

Kisuke's head whipped around towards the sound of Tessai's voice, his hand reaching for his blade instinctively.  There was a loud rush of footsteps as Tessai ran up to the second floor and burst through the door, panting. 

 

Hirako and his companions stepped out of the bedroom, all sharing identical expressions of alarm.

 

"They found us?" Hiyori asked, looking scared but determined not to go down without a fight.

 

Tessai shook his head, trying to catch his breath.  He turned to look at Kisuke and addressed him and him alone.  "I think… I think it's her."

 

Kisuke felt his breath freeze into his lungs, eyes widening.  Without pausing for a single beat, he looked outside the window again, searching frantically for a sign, _any_ sign that she had finally come.  And there she was; a black cat trotting down the muddy path under the rain.  She raised her head, taking in her surroundings, until her golden eyes moved over towards the window he was standing behind.  The barrier would keep him invisible, but she must have been able to sense it.  He watched as she held her gaze on that spot for a moment, then started moving towards the building.

 

He was never even aware of doing it.  All Kisuke knew was that one second he was in his synthetic body, and the next he wasn't, his white captain's haori rippling behind him as he sprinted across the room.

 

"Oi!  Kisuke, wait! Don't!" Hirako yelled, making a move to stop him even though he must've belatedly realized it was futile.  He struggled for a second, trying to leave his own gigai, before Tessai placed a firm hand on his shoulder and shook his head.

 

Kisuke's spiritual body glided right through them as he jumped, coming to a stop at the landing right outside the door.  Chest heaving, he waited for a hint of movement, eyes trained on the broken window by the front door downstairs.  After a moment of stillness, nothing but the rain disrupting the absolute silence in the house, Kisuke heard the soft pattering of small footsteps outside on the porch.  A slim shadow squeezed through the broken window, landing inside the house in a small puff of dust, and then a pair of yellow eyes peered at him through the darkness.

 

When the shadow began to grow, Kisuke released the breath he had been holding since Tessai first told him he had seen her.  _No, not really.  I've been holding my breath for sixty one days now_.

 

As he broke into a run, thundering down the steps, he saw the bright silver sheen of a new barrier encircle the house.  He would have to thank Tessai later; the barrier masking their spiritual presence could only do so for a short time before it became detectable, but even a few seconds would be enough.

 

The moment Kisuke made it downstairs, a slender figure stepped out of the darkness, arms held out, and he crashed into her, enveloping her trembling body in a tight embrace, afraid she would vanish if he didn't hold on hard enough.  Yoruichi buried her face into the crook of his neck, her hands clawing at his back, digging into his hair. 

 

Their lips sought one another, and as Kisuke closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of rain and _her_ , for the very first time, the run-down house felt like home.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a brief first note, I've noticed the series is a little erratic when it comes to spirits interacting with matter. Sometimes they pass through walls, other times they destroy everything in their wake. I'll assume the natural state is to affect matter, but spirits can pass their way through when they will themselves to.
> 
> Thinking about gigai mechanics in Bleach makes my head hurt. There are terribe inconsistencies when it comes to Kisuke and Yoruichi especially (Why is their gigai identical to their normal form? Are there times when they're supposed to be fighting in it? Isn't Kisuke afraid he'll align with his gigai too much?), and I chalk it up to either handwaving or the creator not thinking things through well enough. It really bugs me, so this is what I'm going with in my story: 
> 
> When Kisuke designed his ten special gigai before escaping, he predicted the need to use at least some powers in the human world and implemented said feature in his design. Later on, he created one for Yoruichi as well. Do not ask me where he found the components to build them or ANY of his inventions early on in the human world! He just…. DID, okay?! He used SCIENCE, there (kidding aside, I am actually going to explore this soon enough). So yes, special gigai for himself, the visored, Yoruichi and Tessai which allow the use of some Shinigami powers and still conceal their spirit essence. Later on in the manga, Aizen's treachery has already been revealed, so even though Soul Society didn't exactly shake hands with Kisuke and Yoruichi, they didn't seem to be considered traitors anymore. It's never acknowledged openly, but they do work together, so at this point, I'm assuming they still use their gigais to interact with humans when needed, but can freely change into their actual forms without fearing the sudden presence of their essences will trigger alarms all over Soul Society.
> 
> As for how Kisuke keeps from aligning with his gigai too much, I do have an explanation, but this is getting long already, so it'll be mentioned in a future chapter when appropriate.


	2. The House of the Four Maples

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Episode 2 of 'Author tries not to have meltdown when attempting to make sense of in-universe concepts,' we shall cover children and aging. Since there doesn't seem to be any official statement (other than the fact that aging happens slowly for entities with high spiritual power), I made up my own rules. 
> 
> The TL;DR version
> 
> Kids: Possible, but somewhat rare, which is why the nobles are so uptight about lineage, among other things. Age: Usually a 1:10 ratio (1 human year for every 10 soul years), but from a certain point after adulthood (age 20 appearance-wise, 200 in actual years), aging slows down dramatically. For more details on how I came to this conclusion, look to the author's notes at the end.
> 
> In the datestamps for past events, I use the abbreviation B.H.I. (Before Hollowification Incident) to give you an idea of the timeframe that's being described. I will be using Kisuke and Yoruichi's POVs almost exclusively. This chapter is going to be one of the few exceptions, since I thought Kisuke's mother was better suited to narrate the past events. In the future, any different POV will most likely be limited to single scenes here and there. 
> 
> A brief note on the alias Kisuke uses in this chapter: Kanzaki is an actual Japanese surname, but as a joke, Kisuke spells it an unusual way. Instead of the kanji for 'mind, soul' which is read 'kan,' he uses the kanji for 'sweet,' also read 'kan.' Basically, it's meant to be a two-level pun: the preferred kanji for his name is a hint at what he actually is (a soul masked as a human), while the use of 'sweet' (the adjective, not the candy) refers to his new identity as a candy shop owner. This is the point where I should warn you that while I do study Japanese, I'm novice enough to not have a clue if what I just pulled is even allowed. Still, while brainstorming for his alias, I tried to play around with some kanji and this amused me, plus it seemed like the kind of thing he would do. His first name, Makoto, means sincerity (lawl). 
> 
> The description of the Shihouin estate is heavily based on Himeji Castle. Look it up if you're not familiar with it; it's one seriously gorgeous piece of architecture and history.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

**MAY 4 TH, 1901 A.D., KARAKURA TOWN, JAPAN**

 

The month that followed Yoruichi's arrival in Karakura brought upon many drastic changes in their lives.

 

Their fervent reunion on the night of her return had been the first (and likely last) public acknowledgement of their relationship.  Kisuke knew it hadn't been a secret for at least a few of their company, but if the rest felt confused or in any way uncomfortable by the reveal, they showed no such indication and simply welcomed Yoruichi as another member of their team.  It had been a joyous evening, and not only for Kisuke.  The warm meal and the revelation of Yoruichi's cat form to the stunned audience put any and all news she had on hold, creating an atmosphere more suited to an outing with friends, than an underground meeting of a destitute, exiled group of eleven.

 

The eight former Death Gods, now calling themselves the Visored, ended up staying two days longer than planned.  On the morning after her return, Yoruichi, curled on the floor next to Kisuke's lap, informed them of everything that had happened in Soul Society during their two month long absence.  In the hours after Kisuke and Tessai's escape from the Central 46 Compound, the Thirteen Divisions had razed the ground of Soul Society in search of them and their unidentified rescuer.  No stone had been left unturned in either Rukongai or the Court of Pure Souls.  Yoruichi's own name didn't get involved until her absence became apparent and the two incidents were connected.  She remained in cat form for the remainder of her stay in Soul Society, hidden in the –still undiscovered- training grounds and venturing outside at night to gather intelligence.    

 

When it became clear that they had left the spiritual realm, Soul Society turned its attention to the human world, starting by every destination Yoruichi and Kisuke had ever been assigned to, as Kisuke himself had predicted.  As far as Yoruichi had been able to tell from various conversations, the hunt soon spread to nearby towns in Japan, but it hadn't lasted long.  Once their trail had gone completely cold, Soul Society decided not to pursue the matter any further and waste valuable resources.  They did, however, install a defense mechanism in place, in case he ever returned.  Kisuke was more than a little amused to find out the device was Mayuri's brainchild, designed to kill him on sight.  Yoruichi hadn't been able to get any more details, but Kisuke was certain poison had to be involved.

 

In the aftermath of what was now referred to as The Hollowification Incident, the Thirteen Divisions were in a state of disarray.  Kisuke was surprised to hear that there were those who questioned both the night's events and the proceedings that followed, remarking on the lack of a proper trial or investigation before a sentence had been passed.  As it turned out, there had been quite a few of their erstwhile peers who had voiced concerns, at least to the Captain-Commander.  Kisuke was more than a little touched to hear that some of those who protested the loudest belonged in his own former Division.  Still, with no other culprit in sight and Aizen's alibi iron-clad, both he and his two accomplishes avoided any shred of suspicion.  The moment Yoruichi revealed Aizen had been named the new captain of the Fifth Division and Ichimaru Gin his Lieutenant, Hirako left the room, silent but visibly distraught.  He didn't return until nearly an hour later, looking like he was in control of himself again, but Kisuke could still see an edge of burning rage in his eyes.

 

After answering as many questions as she possibly could, Yoruichi finished her story by detailing her own departure.  Once matters had settled down and the fugitive hunt had been called off, she had waited for nightfall and then made her way to the official Senkaimon Gate.  She had neutralized the sentries standing on guard, and was then able to open the gate according to Tessai's instructions and escape to Karakura, where she and Kisuke had agreed to meet beforehand. 

 

With Yoruichi's tale coming to an end, things returned to their former pace.  That very night, under cover of darkness, the Visored left Karakura.  There was an unspoken agreement between them all not to say any goodbyes, but it didn't make the parting any easier.  Shaking Hirako's hand, Kisuke said no more than ask him to keep in touch.  As the eight companions walked away, Hiyori looked over her shoulder once, locking gazes with Kisuke.  She paused only for a second, gave him a nod, then turned away and disappeared into the darkness.  Almost instantly, Kisuke felt Tessai's massive hand give him a reassuring shoulder squeeze.  Yoruichi, perched on his other shoulder, let her head bump against his gently.

 

_Enough… Enough now,_ he had told himself.  Before him, his future life split in two paths: he could let this separation become the starting point of a downward spiral, or he could move on.  With Tessai and Yoruichi by his side, the choice was easy to make.  They had both lost everything to help him and Kisuke wasn't about to let their sacrifices be in vain.  He chose to see that night as the first night of the rest of their lives and made himself vow to repay their kindness and friendship as best he could.  "Well then," he had said, taking in a deep, refreshing breath of cool air.  "Shall we get some sleep?  We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

 

As he felt, rather than saw, the surprised look Tessai and Yoruichi shared over his head, Kisuke smiled and made his way across the backyard and back into the house.

 

His indelible cheerfulness over the following days was the source of many similar looks of alarm between his two companions, but neither seemed to complain.  True to his word, Kisuke spent every waking moment from then on working to establish a new life for them. 

 

Within a week, the small town of Karakura was abuzz with the news that a living relative claiming ownership of the long-abandoned building had shown up.  The spell that had convinced the poor clerk he was looking at a genuine ownership deed, and not the blank piece of paper Kisuke had actually presented him with, had been fairly easy to cast; nothing but a minor adjustment on the spells used to modify the memories of humans who had seen too much.  The real work was turning the house into suitable living quarters for the three of them, mostly because all repairs needed to happen under the watchful eyes of the neighborhood. 

 

What little money Yoruichi had been able to secure for them on their last night in Soul Society needed to be spent wisely.  Despite his laid-back attitude over the matter, even Kisuke wasn't completely comfortable to keep using spells and deception to secure provisions for an indeterminate period of time.  Some amount of trickery was necessary to get them off to a proper start, but he made sure to keep a track of every single person they had stolen from in one way or another, so they could be secretly reimbursed in the future.  The actual money on hand was only ever used for groceries, or any time either Kisuke or Tessai made a public appearance in the market to keep up the ruse of being human.  It hadn't been a substantial amount to begin with, as Death Gods were only allotted a small sum of human currency on a mission-to-mission basis if needed, and it was quickly running out.   

 

On the more positive side of things, the difference between the once abandoned building and the place they now called a home was striking. 

 

That morning, after he returned from the marketplace, a bag of groceries in hand, Kisuke took a few minutes to admire the view of their house.  The fresh coat of paint he had finished applying last evening should be dry about now, and it looked as though Tessai had finished installing the wooden double doors out front.

 

"It's coming along quite nicely, Mr. Kanzaki."

 

Kisuke turned around to smile at his very nosey but otherwise polite neighbor.  "Thank you and good morning, Mrs. Koizumi," he said, giving her a bow.

 

"And a good morning to you, too," she said, resuming the sweeping of her porch but keeping her eyes on the house.  "Is it true, then?  You're opening up a store on the ground floor?"

 

"That's the idea," he said.  "It will take a while; we're still busy with paperwork and fixing this place up, but it's all going according to plan so far."

 

"I saw that partner of yours, Mr. Saito, was it?" she asked.  Kisuke nodded at her.  "He was putting in the new doors this morning.  Quite an intimidating fellow, isn't he?"

 

"Oh, Hikaru is just shy," Kisuke said, waving his free hand casually at Mrs. Koizumi.  "Once we're settled in you'll get to know him soon enough, don't you worry."

 

"I have no doubt," she said, and he believed her.

 

Kisuke gave her a parting bow and was about to head into the house, when she spoke again.  "I just _have_ to ask—"

 

_For the love of—_ Kisuke allowed himself a brief grimace before turning to her again, fake smile back on his face.  "Yes?"

 

"That black cat that seems to like roaming around your house," Mrs. Koizumi said, and instead of the regular glint in her eye whenever she was fishing for new gossip, Kisuke was surprised to see a touch of exasperation.  "My daughter has been pestering me for ages.  Does she belong to you?"

 

_Ohhhhhh, boy._   "Er…"  Kisuke suddenly had the distinct impression that his answer was going to be thoroughly dissected once inside by the cat in question, who could very well be listening in on this conversation.  "In a… manner of speaking," he said.  "We found her here when we first arrived and it felt a little cruel to send her away.  She seems to have brought us a fair bit of luck," Kisuke said, grinning.

 

"Oh, thank heavens," Mrs. Koizumi said, looking truly relieved.  "Now I can tell Haruka she should stop trying to lure her into our house."

 

Kisuke laughed and bid Mrs. Koizumi farewell once more.  This time around, she had nothing new to say and Kisuke was finally able to return home.   

 

He tested the new doors a couple of times to see if they worked as intended, then walked into the foyer, tiptoeing around the various bits of wood and cans of paint strewn about the floor.  Setting the grocery bag down for a moment, Kisuke approached the left wall and placed his hand up against it.  It was impossible to tell for anyone who didn't have an extremely high sensitivity to spiritual energy, but the interior of the whole house was quietly humming with a steady flow of power.  Aside from the pleasant, fresh smell, repainting the house had had the added bonus of concealing their collective spiritual pressure without the need for an artificial body as long as they stayed within its walls.  If they were to spend their foreseeable future in the human world, Kisuke had realized that the non-stop use of artificial bodies would be detrimental should they ever need to return to their spiritual ones.  There was one more reason, if he was being entirely honest, and said reason had been sleeping peacefully in the bed upstairs, in her actual form, when he'd left for the market about an hour ago. 

 

Implementing his idea had been easier than he'd originally thought.  The cloak he had invented back in Soul Society worked a similar way, and injecting kidou into the fabric had been the only logical choice for what he had been attempting.  He had initially doubted things would be as easy when it came to a whole structure, and since they weren't building it from scratch but rather renovating it, it had taken him some time to work out whether it could be done in the first place.  In the end, the solution had been so simple he hadn't believed it would ever work, but he tried it anyway, and the paint became the vessel this time around.  Yoruichi had said he'd been insufferably smug for the whole day once the plan worked, but she hadn't exactly complained when she was able to release her cat form without repercussions. 

 

Kisuke bent down to retrieve the grocery bag and called out to the house, "I'm home."

 

The lack of answer told him that Yoruichi must be asleep still and Tessai wandering about somewhere.  He'd mentioned something earlier on about getting more wood for the shelves they planned to install, so perhaps he was out retrieving some.  Kisuke took the bag of groceries over to the small kitchen, then made his way upstairs to the bedroom he shared with Yoruichi.  As he had suspected, he found her still under the covers, arms wrapped around a pillow.  Sitting down on the empty spot next to her on the mattress, Kisuke ran a finger down her bare back. 

 

Yoruichi let out a soft moan at the touch and opened one eye to look at him.  "That kid better quit it with the dried fish treats and the meowing noises now," she said.

 

Kisuke let out a chuckle.  "So you were listening?"

 

"Mmmm… Half listening," she said, closing her eyes once more.

 

It was quite a turn of the tables, Kisuke being the first one of the pair to wake up while the other slept on, but lately, Yoruichi had been coming to bed at late hours of the night.  Kisuke knew that adjusting to their new life had been the hardest for her, a woman always on the move.  Without an artificial body, she couldn't venture outside in anything but her cat form, and despite her insistence that she didn't mind, he was certain she was going a little stir-crazy.  Despite its freedom, the cat form didn't allow her to do much to keep herself busy.  To stave off her boredom, she had taken up the habit of hunting at nights.  She was quite efficient at it, but her small size didn't lend itself to bringing in any prey that could realistically serve three.  Besides, her hunting wasn't meant to be a means to secure food, but rather an outlet for her.  Even so, that one night she had dragged in a bona fide eagle, looking supremely proud of herself, neither he nor Tessai had had the heart to tell her they didn't find her offering particularly appetizing.  The resulting meal had been… interesting, to put it kindly.

 

Deciding to let her sleep some more while he worked on the foyer downstairs, Kisuke covered her up with the blanket.  He was about to leave the room, when he noticed it, the small vase on the bedside table that had so far been empty.  This morning, it held three long branches peppered with beautiful purple blossoms.  Maple.  His first thought was that it had been Tessai's doing, but Tessai never ventured into their room out of respect for their privacy and had insisted he take one of the two empty rooms downstairs by the foyer.  That left Yoruichi as the culprit.

 

"When did this happen?" Kisuke asked, reaching out to touch the soft petals of one of the flowers.

 

Yoruichi's lips twitched upwards in a soft grin, as if she had been expecting him to notice for a while now.  "Last night," she said.

 

"Last night?" Kisuke said, brow creasing as he tried to see if he recalled anything of the sort.  He didn't.

 

Yoruichi lifted her core up off the mattress and rested her cheek on her balled fist.  "You don't remember?"

 

"No," Kisuke said, trying once more to dig into his memories of last night for any sign of the flowers.  He remembered going to bed, then remembered waking up to find Yoruichi, no longer a cat, crawling on top of him after returning from her hunt and… the rest of the memories didn't contain any flowers whatsoever.  "I may have been… distracted."

 

She let out a peal of laughter at that, then settled back onto the mattress again.  "You don't say."

 

He tried to put a lot of unsaid things into the smile he gave her as he ran his fingers through her now shoulder-length hair.  He knew the flowers weren't meant to be a touch of domestic instinct; the implication that Yoruichi had even the slightest tendency toward the domestic would have surely earned him the beating of his life, even if uttered as a joke.  But he understood all too well why she had brought them in, and it made his heart swell with emotion.  He bent down to give her a soft kiss, whispering a quick 'Thank you' and leaving her to catch up on her sleep.

 

As he exited the room, he paused at the threshold, looking at the beautiful purple blossoms once more.  His thoughts strayed to the person whose kind face they'd meant to invoke, and Kisuke couldn't help but smile at the memory of his mother.

  

* * *

 

**FEBRUARY 11 TH, 240 B.H.I., URAHARA CLAN MANOR, COURT OF PURE SOULS **

 

The day she was informed that the powerful Tamenaga name had been overlooked in favor of her own for a seat in Shihouin Kenichi's council, Urahara Kaede took pause.

 

Of the lesser noble clans, hers fell near the lowest rungs of the social ladder. In fact, it wasn't even her own clan; she had married into it, and while the union had eventually produced a sole, much-needed heir, she had become widowed before her son had reached his fortieth year of age.  The death of her beloved Takehiko twenty two years ago had brought, along with her despair, the near-severing of many already tenuous relationships with the clansmen, since she had always been considered too lowborn to marry into their family.  She was tolerated as the mother of the Urahara heir, and being a moderately celebrated Kidou master, she was, at times, regarded with grudging respect from both family and peers.  Still, she was under no delusions that the members of the deeply patriarchic Urahara clan viewed her as anything other than a glorified regent, a stand-in as the head of the family until her son became of age.

 

The mere idea that Tamenaga Jirou's immense talent and stellar lineage had been found wanting when compared to hers was laughable. 

 

The unofficial and ever-changing list of those considered for the position had been discussed at length in tea rooms of both the upper and lower echelons of Soul Society's nobility.  All the other contenders had been equally impressive and qualified to offer pearls of wisdom to one of the most powerful men in their world.  Though she couldn't have been present for all such discussions, Urahara Kaede was absolutely certain her name couldn't have been included in any of the rumored lists.  She was talented enough to recognize talent greater than hers when she saw it, and sensible enough to understand that with grandparents who once lived in Rukongai, she had too much commoner blood in her, enough that even marrying into one of the lesser clans had raised many an eyebrow.

 

Nevertheless, she took the offer to relocate in lord Shihouin's castle as a great honor bestowed upon her person.  Keeping to tradition, she thanked the messenger and requested the customary three days to consider the Shihouin clan's proposal. 

 

There wasn't really a decision to be made; rejecting such a position by Lord Shihouin's side for anything short of a cataclysmic event was akin to social suicide.  If nothing else, it had earned her some long-awaited positive attention from the rest of the clan.  If she had to stomach the saccharine praise of those who had once scorned her to erase the stigma of commoner blood off her son, so be it.

 

That night little Kisuke crawled into bed with her, his head already brimming with the expectation of newness.  Kaede smiled and ran a hand through her son's flaxen hair, the trademark straw blond of the Urahara clan.  He may have inherited _their_ hair and not her own chestnut brown, but he had _her_ eyes and most importantly, her brains.  Kaede had never been a particularly vain woman, but she had enough self-respect to recognize the fact that she was often among the cleverest people in any given room.  Still, if she was considered to be a sharp woman, she wasn't quite certain what word would be suitable enough to describe the amazing mind her son possessed.  She doubted Kisuke would ever find himself in any room where his intelligence didn't dwarf that of the two runners-up combined.

 

Settling under the covers, Kaede let Kisuke ramble on about the exciting new development, and did she know the Shihouin mansion played host to the oldest maple trees in Soul Society, maple, _kaede,_ like the character for her name, thirteen strokes, first main radical tree or wood, four strokes, but yes, four magnificent nonagenarian maple trees, and how they were said to have the most beautiful blossoms of any other maple tree in the realm, and did she know they were the result of endless experimentation on grafting until they reached that perfect tree so it would flower more often and accelerate the breeding rate and potential for—

 

"Kisuke, could we talk about maple trees tomorrow?" Kaede said, her mind full after an entire day of agonizing over the hows and whys of her selection.

 

"But—"

 

"Tomorrow, darling," she said, cutting him off and letting out a yawn.  Endlessly proud though she was of him, sometimes Kisuke's brilliance—

 

_…Oh._

And in a sudden flash of understanding, Kaede saw the offer for what it truly was.  In retrospect, she was downright embarrassed it had taken her so long to finally see.  It wasn't her own mastery, or even her intellect that was being honored by this offer, but rather the young man talking up a storm in her arms.  If Kisuke's current progress was any indication, the boy would grow up to be the kind of prodigy seen only once in a lifetime.  The Shihouin clan had clearly taken notice and meant to foster the child's talents in ways only the most privileged of their society could, and in the process offering her a position of considerable influence.  In return, one of the most promising future students of the academy would be forever pledged to serve the House of Shihouin.

 

Any sane parent would have been ecstatic at the opportunity.   Kaede liked to think she was one of them, but she knew her own son well enough to predict that Kisuke would be a poor fit in court.  A life of rigid structure and success was expected not only of the Shihouin clan members, but of their subordinates as well.  Kisuke truly thrived when given gentle direction and then left to his own devices (quite literally at that).  They were still nobility, and as such didn't enjoy the freedoms those with fewer responsibilities did, but so far, Kaede had indulged her son's proclivity for a looser lifestyle as much as she had been able to. 

 

If – _when_ , she corrected herself- they moved to court, Kisuke's days of staying up till the early hours of the morning for projects such as observing the hunting habits of owls would be over.  Intellect was much admired in Soul Society.  Great intellect like hers, was regarded with awe and flecks of suspicion.  She shuddered to think what his peers would make of Kisuke when even she found it hard to keep up with him at times.  She had wanted him to enjoy the halcyon days before his brilliance became even the slightest burden in his life.

 

As Kisuke's sweet ramblings faded into nothing and he fell asleep at last, Kaede let out a sigh and allowed part of her heart to weep for her little boy's impending change of lifestyle.  Only for a moment.  Then, she allowed the other half of her to rejoice, to be proud of the beautiful mind and soul of the child she had raised, and she formulated a plan.  She had three days until the messenger was scheduled to arrive for her response, and she would not spend them in vain.

 

Kisuke was in for the best spent seventy-two hours she could possibly offer him.  If there was time, and he was receptive to it, she might sneak in a piece of advice or two on the new life that awaited them, but she doubted he would be much inclined to listen.

 

* * *

 

**FEBRUARY 17 TH, 240 B.H.I., SHIHOUIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS - MORNING **

 

As the caravan carrying their entire life's worth of possessions trailed behind their carriage, Kaede felt her heart begin to drum a little faster.  One day after she had sent her reply to Lord Shihouin, a second messenger had arrived, carrying a scroll bearing the Shihouin seal.  The head of the clan himself had written to express his formal gratitude at her acceptance.  In the letter, he also spoke of a 'modest' ceremony that would take place the night of their arrival, as an official welcome to their new home.  From what she had seen of Shihouin castle from afar, Kaede had to wonder just what the clan's definition of modest might be.

 

Her curiosity was satisfied the moment their carriage rolled onto the sturdy, wooden bridge and over the serpentine moat surrounding the complex; it was then that the castle came in full view.  Next to her, Kisuke, who had been –frankly- exhausting the whole ride through with his incessant questions, fell silent at long last, his mouth dropping.  The paved road ahead led the caravan to the White Gate, the first of ten similar passages scattered across the northwest corner of the Court of Pure Souls that led into the large complex of Shihouin Castle.  The White Gate, portcullis already drawn, was situated between the first two of the castle's famous maples.  The other two, she had been told, were planted by the castle's shrine and the grounds behind the main estate, respectively.

 

"Look, mom!" Kisuke whispered, pointing at the very trees that had fascinated him so during his research on the castle's history.

 

"I know, love," Kaede said with a smile, reaching out to hold his hand as their carriage crossed under the gate decorated with a large Shihouin Crest, the four elite guards on standby saluting them.       

 

The entire compound of buildings was enclosed by thick walls that went for at least two and a half miles, by her estimation, and were lined all the way around with defensive loopholes.  Within said walls lay a veritable town of beauty the likes of which Kaede had never before seen, even in the loveliest corners of the Court of Pure Souls.  Every road, every separate structure, every bench, had been crafted with the utmost care.  Pale white buildings with their signature amethyst roofs, gardens housing trees that would be bursting with fruit come spring and koi ponds, each more beautiful that the last.  While the main road had been cleared for their arrival, Kaede could see a multitude of people going about their day, servants and members of the lesser clans alike. 

 

"Look, Kisuke," Kaede whispered to her awestruck son.  "See these men over there?"  She pointed discreetly at a group of black-clad soldiers a few roads away; they were marching towards the Yellow Gate at the east of the complex in formation.  "They're members of the Onmitsukidou, the Secret Mobile Corps.  Princess Yoruichi is meant to become their leader once she becomes of age."  

 

Kaede had spent some time during the past few days educating her son on the families that lived in Shihouin Castle, the Lord's councilmen and heads of his personal guard, as well as the Shihouin family itself.  He had been intrigued to find out that there were many children his age living in the castle, even the Princess herself who was only a few hours younger than he was.  He hadn't had many chances to socialize with his peers in the past and the idea had both excited and scared him at first, but right now he only had eyes for the Onmitsukidou members.    

 

Kisuke's gaze didn't leave the soldiers until they had disappeared through the Yellow Gate and into the Onmitsukidou training grounds and headquarters in the distance.  When he turned to look ahead once more, their carriage was making its way up the first steep walkway leading to the main estate.  Once they reached the first landing, the caravan didn't follow the immediate path and Kaede could see why; the road upwards was lined with several steps that would have made access via carriage if not impossible, then far too cumbersome and unnecessary.  Instead, the driver of their carriage steered it along to the end of the landing, toward a drawn, heavy gate. 

 

Kisuke must've realized they were nearing the end of their journey, as his sweaty palm clenched Kaede's hand tighter, and she rubbed her thumb over his soft skin in reassurance.  "Almost there, now," she told him in a soothing voice.

 

As the carriage climbed up the final pathway, Kaede ventured a look at the side of the road.  They were high enough to see not only the whole complex, but most of the Court of Pure Souls as well.  Kaede gave Kisuke's hand a gentle tug and motioned to the panoramic view with her head.  It had the desired effect; no longer looking pale and nervous, Kisuke gaped at the sight and forgot all about his anxiety at the impending meeting with the lords of this truly majestic castle.

 

Kaede, not quite as easily distracted, took a deep breath, steeling herself while they crossed the final few meters and reached the main estate at long last.  At the end of the road was a wide stone staircase that led into the building, where a crowd of personnel had arrived to greet them.  As expected, Lord and Lady Shihouin had saved their own welcome for that night's feast and were absent.  A man dressed in a deep purple kimono bearing the Shihouin crest came forward and introduced himself as Fukui Katsuo, the estate's porter, bidding her welcome and offering to help Kaede down.

 

_There we go_ , Kaede thought, taking the man's hand and stepping off the carriage.  She turned to Kisuke next, reaching out for him.  For a moment, it looked as if he might crawl into the carriage and disappear from sight, but eventually he bent forward, taking her hand and landing gracefully by her side on the ground.

 

As Mr. Fukui led them forward into the five-story building, instructing the staff to carry their belongings inside, Kaede grasped Kisuke by the hand and readied herself for the new chapter in their lives.              

 

* * *

 

**FEBRUARY 17 TH, 240 B.H.I., SHIHOUIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS - EVENING **

 

The first sign both Kaede and Kisuke had that things happened with the utmost efficiency in the Shihouin household came within minutes of their arrival at the ancestral castle. 

 

In the hour it took for them to be given a tour of the estate's main halls and gardens, their personal effects had already been transferred to their quarters.  Asuka, Kaede's handmaiden ever since she had joined the Urahara clan, was currently giving a few final instructions to the moving staff.  Though it would require a few days' work to have everything in place according to Kaede's wishes, the apartment was already fitted with the absolute necessities.  Asuka came forward to greet Kaede and inform her that a fresh outfit had already been laid out in each their bedrooms, a light meal would be served shortly and a bath could be drawn at a moment's notice.

 

Feeling more than a little overwhelmed by the day's rapid proceedings, Kaede was grateful for the chance to unwind and she was certain Kisuke needed some time to process everything as well.  After having their lunch, they both familiarized themselves with the layout of their apartment.  Being already used to having his own room in their previous home, Kisuke wasn't particularly impressed by the far more luxurious quarters he would now be sleeping in.  What truly captured his interest was the study.  The spacious, open room that also served as their dining area held two desks, one for each of them, at the far end next to a large window, and two separate bookcases, one per wall.  Kisuke was initially puzzled to see that the books they'd brought over from the Urahara manor didn't quite fill out all the shelves, until he realized that his own books were still in storage and every single volume on the shelves was a new book to be explored.  Kaede had to physically drag him away and into a bath a few hours later, when the hour of their welcoming ceremony was drawing near.

 

"All right," she said, kneeling down to Kisuke's level once they had both bathed and dressed in their finest.  "Let me take a look at you."

 

Though he understood the importance of a good first impression, Kaede knew her son was aching to get back to his reading.  He was usually amenable to most requests, unless he had been interrupted in the middle of anything he believed to be important.  As Kaede ran her hands down his dark blue haori and straightened the pleats of his striped hakama, his eyes kept straying toward the volume he had been cruelly forced to abandon. 

 

"Kisuke, focus, please," Kaede said, grabbing him by the chin gently and making him look at her.  "We can't tarry, Ms. Fujiwara has been patiently waiting for us long enough."

 

Fujiwara Chiyo, the court's head tutor and Kisuke's future tutor as well, stood by the doorway, smiling behind her colorful fan.  She had been sent to guide them to the great hall where the ceremony would take place, and to get a chance to meet Kisuke in person before their first lesson come morning.  Currently, she was eyeing him with great interest.  Kaede had seen the look before: it was the hopeful look all tutors got in their eyes when dealing with a promising student like Kisuke.  She almost felt sorry for her; most of her son's tutors had lasted about three to four hours before his never-ending questions drove them to the edge and subsequent lessons were met with far less enthusiasm on their part.  Perhaps Ms. Fujiwara would last five.

 

"This little cowlick will be the end of me, I swear," Kaede muttered, trying in vain to tame the strand of hair falling between Kisuke's eyes.  Eventually, she gave up, sighing; she'd been trying to make the offending strand behave for years, and if it hadn't worked so far, it definitely wouldn't work now, either.  She proclaimed him ready, then stood up to her full height.  "How do I look?" she asked Kisuke.

 

The boy took in her kimono; pure white, embroidered with the pale pink lotus flowers of the Urahara crest, it was the last gift she had received from Takehiko on their anniversary before his death.  Kisuke smiled at her.  "Very pretty," he said.

 

"You liar," Kaede said, smirking at him and offered him her hand.  "Sorry for the wait, Ms. Fujiwara," she said, giving the matron a curt bow before they were on their way.

 

The trip to the great hall took longer that Kaede had expected, even though she had already been given the tour a few hours ago.  Kisuke, she noticed, had already memorized the maze-like layout of the halls and kept steering her toward the right direction without any need to keep his eyes on Mrs. Fujiwara.  The teacher had been kind enough to explain the proceedings for the upcoming ceremony and had asked Kisuke questions about his schooling so far, his interests and his first impressions of the estate.  Kaede was grateful for the distraction, for it allowed her some time to get herself mentally prepared.

 

For all her talk that the walk had taken a long time, when they reached the gilded double doors guarded by a pair of Lord Shihouin's men, Kaede could've sworn they had left their quarters barely a minute ago.  Ms. Fujiwara bid them farewell and made her way swiftly toward the side entrance.  The guard on the right gave Kisuke a kind smile the boy returned reluctantly, then the man turned to her.  "Are you ready, Lady Urahara?"

 

Kaede cast one final look at Kisuke, running her hands over his hair and picking invisible lint off his fine kimono, did a quick inspection of herself, then nodded at the guard. 

 

The men knocked on the heavy doors thrice in concert, then pushed them open and stepped forward.  "Lady Urahara Kaede.  Young Lord Urahara Kisuke," they called to the court.

 

Kaede pressed a gentle hand against her son's back and steered him inside.  She could feel his skin vibrate with soft tremors and gave him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before pulling away and crossing her hands before her lap.

 

It took a great deal of concentration not to stare at the beautifully decorated great hall.  Out of the corners of her eyes, she could tell that the ceremony was being attended by the majority of the court.  The lords and ladies forming the Shihouin retinue stood up before their respective tables and fell silent.  Between the two rows of dining room tables, a wide path lead to the end of the hall and up a dais, where Lord and Lady Shihouin waited along with their daughter, the Lord's councilmen and their families standing behind them.

 

"Eyes down, Kisuke," Kaede whispered at her son, her own back slightly bowed as they made their way down the path.  She saw Kisuke nod imperceptibly and swallow as he followed along, his eyes wide and alert.  They came to a stop a few steps away from the lords of the estate, where Kaede was relieved to see Kisuke gently drop to his knees when she did.

 

Lord Shihouin took both his wife and daughter by one hand and they all stepped down the dais gracefully, coming to stand before Kaede and Kisuke.

 

Kaede raised her head to make swift eye contact and bowed once to Lord Shihouin, deeply, taking the opportunity to cast her first close look on the Shihouin family.  Its patriarch, Lord Shihouin Kenichi, cut an imposing figure: tall and still very lean despite the obvious signs of age on his face, he wore his long black hair in a meticulously constructed topknot.  There was a nearly purple sheen to his locks, Kaede realized, a trait he and his daughter shared.  The Lord was regarding Kaede with his clever, onyx eyes, and she could tell he was making an effort to keep his formidable spirit force under control if not for her sake, then for the children's sake.  On his left stood Lady Hana, his wife, and on his right, Princess Yoruichi.  The similarity between mother and daughter was startling; if not for her hair, Princess Yoruichi might have been an exact replica of her mother.  Lady Hana wore her light brown hair in a loose bun held together by a spectacular golden headdress which matched her kimono in color.  Both she and her daughter had rich, deep brown skin and hazel eyes, differing only in their expression.  While Lady Hana was sizing up Kaede with a decidedly superior look in her eyes, the Princess looked simply bored.  She was a sweet little slip of a thing, Shihouin Yoruichi, clad in enough fabric to make her tiny body disappear.  She didn't seem to be particularly enjoying the hubbub, nor the restricting, though resplendent red kimono she had been instructed to wear.

 

Lord Shihouin Kenichi addressed his two guests.  "Rise, Lady Urahara, Young Lord Urahara.  We welcome you to our home."

 

Despite her certainty that Lord Shihouin was not using his spirit pressure to intimidate them, Kaede felt a little breathless, though it may have simply been the keen desire to make a good first impression at court.  Next to her, Kisuke's trembling had exacerbated, whether by nerves or the great wave of power washing over him, she couldn't tell.   

 

"Your Excellency, it is a true honor to be invited within these walls," Kaede said.  "I pledge my loyalty to you, and vow to use my gifts to honor the great House of Shihouin, forever and always," she said, reciting the speech she had practiced a few hours before.  As she rose up to her feet, she turned to Lady Shihouin and the princess one at a time, bowing deeply.  "My Lady Shihouin, Princess Shihouin."

 

Lady Hana gave her a curt, polite smile and a nod of her head in return.  The princess smiled at Kaede a little uncertainly and bowed back. 

 

Lord Shihouin, for all his booming voice and intimidating presence, turned to Kisuke next with a firm, but kind expression.  Kaede felt a gentle wave of spiritual power wafting their way, no doubt the Lord's attempt to put her son at ease.

 

Kisuke stood up straighter, now looking downright terrified as they had reached his small part of the proceedings.  He took a quick breath in and stepped forward before the family of three.  He was a little too close, and Kaede felt the urge to pull him a few steps back, but Lord Shihouin didn't seem to mind.  In his soft, clear voice, Kisuke recited the same oath Kaede had just a moment ago.  With every word, she could see and feel his anxiety fade a little as his ordeal was about to be over.  By the time he reached the end, he looked so relieved to be done, he had to suppress a smile as he bowed to the noble couple.  Kisuke turned to Princess Yoruichi next, and Kaede was about to let her body relax at long last, when her son, in all his juvenile enthusiasm and utter relief, bowed a little too low and too sharply and, very literally, knocked heads with the heir of the Shihouin family.  Hard.  Sending the princess straight down to the floor.

 

It took about a second for the incident to truly sink in, but when it did, Kaede felt every speck of blood in her veins turn to ice.  In contrast, her face flared up to the deepest of reds and time around her seemed to slow down.  As though from very far away, the muted gasps of the crowd in the hall reached her ears.  She could hear chairs scraping on the floor and the deafening sound of dozens of people whispering in unison.

 

Lady Shihouin's mouth dropped, her face slowly, but steadily turning the deep purple of the estate's gorgeous maple blossoms.  Maple.  _Kaede_.  Like her name. Thirteen strokes. 

 

Lord Shihouin fell to his knees to see to his daughter and Kisuke – _Oh, **Kisuke**!- _ followed suit, desperately apologizing over and over.  The little princess sat up with her father's assistance, her eyes slightly out of focus.  The sight might have been comical if this wasn't Kaede's single, most shameful moment in life.  She could tell the girl was trying to figure out what had just happened.  The hall fell silent, Kisuke's apologies quieting down to whispers, as the princess blinked once, twice, then turned to look at the boy before her.

 

And then, she started laughing.  Not the demure hand-over-the-mouth kind of laughter taught to proper ladies since they learned to crawl, but hearty, head thrown back, clean-your-guts-out laughter.  It echoed through the otherwise quiet hall –even Kisuke had gone silent now- joyful, crystalline, as the girl's eyes filled with tears of mirth.  In the far ridges of Kaede's mind, the few parts that weren't completely mortified, she was relieved to hear that the princess wasn't laughing at her son, but at the ridiculous situation unfolding around them.  For truly, Kaede would be hard pressed to find a past memory more ridiculous than what she was now experiencing.

 

Slowly, uncertainly, Kisuke joined the princess, his usually pale little face flushed with embarrassment and amusement.  

 

Kaede, feeling returning to her rigid body at long last, hurried forward and issued her own repeated apologies.  Lady Shihouin muttered a perfunctory response, her facial muscles stiffer than rock, while Lord Shihouin helped his still giggling daughter to her feet, giving her stern looks that weren't making much of an impact.  Kisuke tried his best to look remorseful and took to apologizing once more, but his sincerity must've been put into question; his voice was laced with renewed laughter every time the princess let out little snorts into her father's sleeve, rubbing her sore forehead with the other hand.

 

Putting an end to this vicious cycle, Lord Shihouin, jaw clenched, finally spoke.  "Let us… dine," he said.  The hall filled with sound again, as the rest of the court pretended to return to their previous conversations, no doubt about to discuss the event in full.

 

Kaede dragged her feet toward the Lord's table, knowing full well that if they somehow didn't find themselves out of the estate tomorrow with a weak, but utterly polite excuse that contained words like 'regrettably,'  'ill-suited' and such, she would _never_ live this down.

 

Still, as she took her seat, she saw something that made her heart soften.  Kisuke and Princess Yoruichi held each other's gaze and were sharing what could only be described as a wicked grin of camaraderie, the little girl still trying her utmost to calm herself.  Unless Kaede was wrong –and she usually wasn't- her quiet, strange, wonderful son had just made his first friend.

 

And that was worth all the humiliation in the world.  Almost.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find it absolutely hilarious that Kisuke, a man on the run from Soul Society, calls his place URAHARA SHOP. Like… seriously, dude? It's a wonder he didn't have a huge neon target sign installed above the roof with an inscription reading "COME AT ME, BROS." Not that it's OOC for him to troll people like that, but he's also shown to be quite careful when he needs to be and this seems like a silly risk to take. Still, since it's not only canon but also such a Kisuke thing to pull, I do plan on using it in the future. I just thought he might be less inclined to do so that early on in their exile, since people are bound to notice an ageless guy called Urahara living in the same neighborhood for a full century. Also, I do realize that Kisuke and Yoruichi are acting a little sappy at the moment in their adult versions, but this is meant to be them in an already established relationship, at the lowest point in their lives and it all happens in private, so I hope it won't be seen as terribly OOC.
> 
> Now, for my take on aging and children:
> 
> Basically, souls with low spiritual power who die in the real world and come to Soul Society don't age, like little Shibata the parakeet points out early on in the series. Certain members of the Thirteen Divisions are seen to age through flashbacks and whatnot, so we can assume it happens, though very slowly. Rukia tells Ichigo when they first meet that she's lived ten times longer than he has, which sounds and probably is very arbitrary, but it really does work in most cases. For example, in the pendulum arc 100 years ago, Byakuya looks to be about 16, so using the 1:10 ratio, today he should have the appearance of a 26 year old, which fits. The problems in coming up with a set ratio of human to soul years begin when you find out that the Shin'ou Academy was founded 2100 years ago, and captains Kyouraku and Ukitake were among the first graduates. Both of them look to be in their mid-30s, 40s at best. Don't even get me started on Yamamoto, who already looked like he was in his 50s when the academy was first founded.
> 
> So, in order to save myself the pain of coming up with a ridiculous formula (which neither you nor I really care about), I'm just going to assume a ratio of 1:10 from childhood to adulthood (which would be 20 years old, going with Japanese customs), and afterwards, aging begins to slow down even more. For the purposes of this story, assume Kisuke and Yoruichi are about 400 years old when they meet Ichigo, which would make them 300 when they became exiles. I'm going with Kisuke and Yoruichi being the same age, and Tessai being a little older than both. The extra 100 years don't matter much in terms of appearance either way, since they use artificial bodies.
> 
> As for children… The wiki article on Soul Society says that Tite Kubo stated it was possible and it makes sense. Noble clans like the Kuchiki and Shihouin clan are seen to place a strong emphasis on lineage, so I'm guessing they don't just sit around waiting for promising-looking babies to come to SS and pick one out of the pack. Rukia was obviously an exception, as explained in the story. This leads me to believe they must reproduce, but since we don't see Yoruichi and Byakuya running around with fifty siblings each, it must either be rare or the nobles don't bother much with it once they secure an heir. Which is ridiculous, given the mortality rate in their usual professions, but I digress. We'll go with rare in this story.
> 
> If you enjoyed this, let me know!


	3. Masks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! It's a pretty huge chapter, especially when compared to the last one, so hopefully that'll make up for the delay. The reason it took so long is that I had some (thankfully pleasant) new developments in my life and it took a while to get everything back in order before I could find some time to write. My thanks to everyone who has commented/left kudos so far! It's great to know people are interested in this from the get-go, so I hope I won't let you down with future chapters.
> 
> A quick warning: shougi (a Japanese strategy board game in the chess family) makes a brief appearance in this chapter. I am completely hopeless when it comes to chess, and all my knowledge of shougi comes from the intarwebz, so I only inserted bits and pieces of info to give the scene a touch of realism. Also, I have set up a tumblr account after years of being a lurker. While I like sharing my thought process with you guys, I realized that the A/N isn't the best place to do it, so whenever there's something I want to expand on that has no immediate bearing on the current chapter, I'll link the relevant tumblr post here for anyone interested in reading it. You can find my tumblr address in my profile page. For this week's ramblings, simply add 'post/102873821322/notes-on-mna-ch2' (no quotes) at the end of the url. 
> 
> Some cultural notes for this chapter:
> 
> The Daruma doll fell over (Daruma-san ga koronda): The Japanese version of the children's game 'Statues' AKA 'Red Light Green Light.' The game starts with a few rounds of rock-paper-scissors, wherein the people who lose keep advancing to the next round. The last person left is 'it,' called the Oni (demon).
> 
> Tanzaku: Small pieces of paper used to write wishes upon, often in the form of a poem (commonly associated with the Tanabata festival) 
> 
> Hikizuri: Trailing kimono usually worn by performers
> 
> Taiko: Japanese drum
> 
> Washi: The more expensive type of origami paper

 

**JANUARY 1 ST, 1902 A.D., KARAKURA TOWN, JAPAN **

 

With a warm blanket wrapped around her shoulders, Yoruichi gingerly descended the steps down to the store, her head pounding.

 

She had no idea what time it was, but the brightness of the sun suggested it was well past noon.  Shielding her eyes at the invasion of light, she stumbled across the messy foyer, trying to find her way to the kitchen blindly.  One smashed toe and much cursing later, she hopped her way into the kitchen, opening drawers indiscriminately in search of those white little analgesic tablets Tessai claimed worked wonders.  Yoruichi had been skeptic of the drug's effectiveness in the past, as she was with many things in the human world, but desperate times called for desperate measures.  She found the bottle container eventually and unscrewed the lid, popping a pill into her mouth.  The horrible bitterness wasn't helping the already unpleasant aftertaste of last night's many – _Oh so **many** \- _indulgencies, and she quickly reached for a glass to fill with water and wash it away.  She let out a shudder, then turned around and sank down onto the floor, her back against the counter.  Unfortunately, the drug was supposed to take a while to work and Yoruichi let out a pitiful moan, curling up into a ball of misery and wrapping the blanket around her more tightly as she waited for the concoction to work its alleged magic.

 

Cracking a bleary eye open, she took in the state of the kitchen.  Compared to the rest of the house, it wasn't in such a bad shape.  Their first New Year's celebration in the human world had been one of the better nights and days she had spent there so far, but it had come at the heavy price of having to clean up the massive mess they'd made afterwards.  With a raging headache, no less. 

 

 _Next year, we'll have a nice, quiet dinner and that's **it** ,_ she thought, rubbing one of her sore temples.    

 

She knew, however, even as she formed the thought, that this wasn't a promise she was going to keep.  Troublesome though it was, having to face the music come morning, their tradition of pulling out all stops on December 31st was far older than the modern celebration of New Year's.  Kisuke had outdone himself this year, even with their limited resources, and Yoruichi understood why he'd felt the need to splurge all too well.  As smoothly as things had gone for their first year in exile, they still had trouble not only adjusting, but also making ends meet; the store was a moderate success, but if their needs had been closer to those of actual humans, they would have genuinely struggled. 

 

As if the urge to celebrate the fact that they were all alive and well wasn't enough, Kisuke had had more than a little help from that blasted concoction from Ceylon that had made him hyper all day long.  Yoruichi couldn't quite place the name – _Co… Coi? Cohi?-_ but it was meant to be brewed into a beverage in order to be consumed.  They had all tried it, but Yoruichi and Tessai had found the black brew bitter and unpleasant, not nearly as refreshing as unsweetened tea, and had both pushed their cups away after a couple of sips.  Kisuke had had five cups.  He spent the following day dragging Tessai and Yoruichi into a mish-mash of celebrations from both their world and the human world, jumping from activity to activity like a man possessed.  Kite-flying, card games, an odd sport played with paddles he called hanetsuki, pounding rice cakes in the back yard, all of it culminating in a splendid dinner where they consumed enough sake to fill a small lake. 

 

She was unable to help but smile at the thought of Kisuke's efforts to plan all activities indoors so she would be able to participate in everything.  _That idiot.  How exactly was he planning on flying a kite indoors?_   Then again, that would probably explain the odd sketch of a complicated pulley machine she'd found lying around his desk.  Eventually, she had pointed out to him that she could simply switch to her cat form and make things easier for everyone, switching back only when it was time for dinner.  He'd looked a little crestfallen at her suggestion; she didn't know if it was because he'd just realized there was a very simple solution to the problem that rendered his intricate plans a waste of time, or if he had actually looked forward to implementing them, but he'd moved on from his disappointment quickly enough.

 

If Yoruichi felt a touch of regret regarding last night, it was because their binging had caused them to miss the fireworks, but the fact that Kisuke had originally planned for them to have their drinks on the rooftop softened the blow a little.  As she'd dragged him upstairs a few hours after midnight, his body dead weight on her shoulders, he'd kept muttering into her ear: " 'zit midnight yet?  Hafta go to th' rooftop fer firewerks.  You hafta remind me, kay?  Five min'tes to midnight, dun forget.  We hafta do th' downcount.  The… count… the _thing_."    

 

She hadn't had the heart to tell him they'd missed it, so she'd assured him she was only letting him rest his eyes for a couple of minutes before they moved the party upstairs.  Kisuke had only been able to muster a feeble 'Okay' before he was out like a log, not moving an inch from the spot she'd deposited him on the bed.  Yoruichi had then made a quick detour downstairs into the dining room, where Tessai was passed out, and covered him with the largest blanket she had been able to find.  _Lightweights,_ she'd thought with a grin, before she'd shed her human form and made her way up to the rooftop for some fresh air.

 

The bracing cold of the night had felt invigorating after a day filled with food, drink and games.  Yoruichi had curled up onto the rooftop, tucking her tail under her limbs neatly, her eyes turning toward the starry sky.  She couldn't tell how long she'd spent up there, but her thoughts had strayed to Soul Society more than once, no matter how hard she'd tried to quash them, just like they were now, as she sat on the cold kitchen floor. 

 

During the start of their stay in the human world, they had often discussed the intelligence Yoruichi had gathered during her two-month stay.  Kisuke's determination to undo the fate that had befallen them had burned with the fire of a thousand suns those first few weeks, as he analyzed motivations and posited theories on who their remaining –if any- allies might be.  As time went on and their situation became real to all of them, his questions lessened until they eventually stopped altogether.  No longer obsessing over giving her and Tessai the option to return once their names had been cleared –for Yoruichi was certain that had been his goal- he was instead channeling all his passion into destroying his greatest creation.  Whenever he wasn't occupied with creating better living conditions for them, he would claim he was working on a new project and would disappear for hours, returning only after exhausting all his mental capacities, his eyes dead and cold at having failed again.  They had an unspoken agreement, the two of them; she never asked about the Hougyoku, and he never asked about her family.  It was the one question he had avoided when asking her to repeat her observations again and again.  He'd asked of every single person she had come across, whether friend or foe, but never the Shihouin clan.  Yoruichi was certain part of it had to do with the guilt he felt over her situation; Tessai had had no choice but to follow, whereas she had.  He understood all too well just what she'd had to leave behind, and she suspected that he feared asking too many questions over how her family had taken her departure might make her reconsider her choice only to inevitably lead to her resenting him. 

 

The truth was, however, she wouldn't have had anything to say even if he'd asked.  For two long months, she had fought the urge to seek out any information concerning the Shihouin clan with all her might; she didn't think she could have handled the reaction on either end of the spectrum.  If her family had been all too eager to believe she was a traitor, it would've crushed her.  If they had stood behind her, believing in her despite all evidence to the contrary, it might've tempted her to stay.  Thinking of her parents, of Soi Fon and Kuukaku and how they were handling her disappearance, was at times painful enough to take her breath away, leaving her in a state of near-panic, as she contemplated the full ramifications of what she had done to them and to the Shihouin legacy.  As much as she had desired her freedom in the past, the cost at which it had come was devastating and not something she would have picked out of a thousand possible scenarios; she had never wanted to run away from her family's expectations of her, she had simply wanted to live up to her responsibilities in her own terms.  Part of her had originally been terrified that the remorse _would_ eventually build up to a point where she would unfairly resent Kisuke. 

 

That fear had evaporated the moment she had stepped into his arms that first night in the human world.  She wasn't naïve or nearly dramatic enough to think she couldn't live with either choice; she had simply realized that if she truly wanted to go through life following her own rules, Kisuke's presence was a non-negotiable term.  Miserable though it would be, she knew she could lead an existence away from him.  She just chose not to, and despite her occasional musings on everything and everyone she had left behind, she had no doubt in her mind she would make the same choice over and over again in a hundred different lifetimes.

 

Unbidden, Tessai's words came to her from one of the few conversations they'd had during Kisuke's darker moments, the times when he locked himself away, consumed by his need to destroy the Hougyoku.

 

_"Don't worry, Lady Yoruichi.  He understands that it was your choice to make.  And it wouldn't have been much of a choice if you hadn't had to make sacrifices in the process, would it?"_

 

They'd never said goodbye, that last night in Soul Society.  When it was time to part ways, as Tessai had led the others out of the training grounds, Kisuke had lingered behind, looking exhausted but at the same time determined.  Hands in his pockets, he'd approached her, not meeting her eyes.  "I have to ask at least once," he'd said quietly.

 

"No, you don't," Yoruichi had said. 

 

"You've done more than enough.  No-one has seen you, no-one knows it was you.  You can still—"

 

Yoruichi had shaken her head firmly, resisting the urge to pummel him only because he, too, understood deep down that this conversation was futile.   

 

He'd looked at her then, his eyes making one last plea for her to reconsider.  "Why?"

 

In response, she'd locked her gaze with his as she busied her hands with the lapels of his haori, saying all that needed to be said with a single look.  He'd sighed, running a thumb down her cheek, his expression pained only for a second, before he'd smiled at her.  "See you on the other side?"

 

Yoruichi had smiled back.

 

Forcing her thoughts back to the present, Yoruichi looked upon the remnants of their latest New Year's fest, and eleven months after he'd asked, she decided to answer.

 

_Because you came up with a plan to fly a kite indoors.  Because you still wanted to see the fireworks when you could barely string a sentence together._

_Because you spent three hours deliberating and dragging me all over the house, until we could settle on which one **our** bedroom would be._

_Because you tried to make me stay behind._

_Because we both wanted to be free._

_Because when I was scared of failure, you knew, without my saying a word, and built me a secret training room._

_Because you never stopped being my best friend._

_Because you're the most brilliant man I've ever met and it still took me four weeks to teach you how to whistle._

_Because you fidget when you're nervous and hardly ever swear unless you're drunk._

_Because it takes you three damn hours to fully function in the morning._

_Because you took the one night in every year when I felt truly alone, and turned it into the night I most look forward to._

_Because I never have to tell you any of this.  You already know._

 

 

* * *

 

 

**APRIL 15 TH, 240 B.H.I., SHIHOUIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS **

 

In the months that followed, Kaede saw her prediction come to fruition: Kisuke and Princess Yoruichi quickly developed the kind of relationship every parent wished their child would experience.  Despite the unorthodox and highly embarrassing introduction of the Urahara family that night in court, even the stern Lady Hana approved of their companionship; Kisuke's gentler demeanor acted as a tempering agent to the princess's rebellious character. 

 

Being a particularly vocal person, the little girl found herself at odds with her instructors on a nearly weekly basis.  On such occasions, when she felt she was treated unfairly, she would stalk off after an argument, eager to be left alone.  Her disappearing acts lasted anywhere from thirty minutes to whole hours, depending on the severity of the quarrel in question and the Princess's previous mood.  The only constants in the equation were, a) her cat-like fondness for high perches or dark recesses as hiding holes, and b) the fact that Kisuke was the only one who could coax her out of such a place before the thirty minute mark.   

 

"This is not behavior befitting a lady of your breeding," Ms. Fujiwara would say in her most intimidating tone.  She was always the first one to step into the fray.

 

The ensuing parade of candidates trying to cajole the girl often included her handmaidens; her governess; the cook, tempting her with his famous manju or a plate of her favorite savory rice crackers; her other tutors; Sakumo, a guard Yoruichi had always been fond of for his talent in coming up with highly amusing and often inappropriate haiku. 

 

In the end, the threat of alerting her parents next was issued, which was when Kisuke, abandoning his current project with a sigh and a shake of his head, stepped up to make sure she didn't get into real trouble.  He would take a seat right by her hiding place and, in dulcet tones, would always manage to make the activity Yoruichi refused to perform sound like the most interesting, challenging thing in the world.  Half way through his spiel, the little princess would peek out of her haven, wary of someone like Ms. Fujiwara swooping down upon her.  Kisuke wouldn't react, not yet, but went on as if nothing had happened until Yoruichi finally relented.  He would then turn to look at her, hold his hand out and pull her up to her feet, much to her annoyance.

 

"I can get up on my own," she would say, but her tone was never hostile and she had yet to refuse the proffered hand, either.  She would then proceed to dust herself off, adopt a dignified expression, and set about to her designated activity as if she had never offered a modicum of resistance in the first place. 

 

On such days, without fail, Kaede always caught Ms. Fujiwara out of the corner of her eye, furtively handing a generous handful of sweets to Kisuke after dinner.

 

Though she guessed it mattered little to Yoruichi's family, Kaede was overjoyed to see that said influence was a two-way street.  Next to the Princess, Kisuke seemed to not only smile far more often, but also recovered some of his old confidence.  Day by day, he was inching closer to the boy he had been before his schooling and interaction with some of the more unpleasant members of their family had drastically changed him.  And if he happened to pick up a few bad habits from the Princess along the way, like her fondness for good-naturedly taunting others openly, well… Kaede felt well and truly positive in saying that she didn't give a damn.

 

* * *

 

 

**MAY 4 TH, 240 B.H.I., SHIHOUIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS **

 

"The Daaaaruuuuma dooooll fell ooooooover!"

 

Kisuke came to a halt, balancing precariously on his right leg.  He could feel the pressure mount on his back as he leaned backwards, his left leg extended forward, arms spread out to keep him from toppling over.  On his left, he could see Yoruichi had once again taken his challenge to keep their poses 'interesting' a bit too far: she had also chosen to stand on one leg, while she had bent the other all the way up into a perfect 180 degree angle, her arms hovering right by her head.  He assumed she'd meant to grab on to the extended leg to help keep it in place, but hadn't been fast enough; the strain on her body was only noticeable by the bulging vein on her neck, but her face was otherwise as still as calm waters.

 

Tachibana Kumiko, the daughter of one of Lord Shihouin's councilmen and Kisuke's classmate, surveyed the scene before her, her deep blue eyes narrowed.  The auburn haired girl took her time going over every single frozen body in search of anyone moving, paying careful attention to Yoruichi and Kisuke.  Next to Tachibana, one of Yoruichi's cousins, Akira, was holding her hand, having already been captured as per the rules of the game.  Judging by the look on his face, Kisuke assumed he wasn't particularly troubled with being saved; the older boy hadn't exactly been thrilled about playing the game in the first place, but had acquiesced after his younger brothers had insisted they all join in.

 

Once Tachibana was satisfied no-one had moved, she turned her back and faced the trunk of the cherry tree once more. "The Daaaaaaruuuumaaaaaa…"

 

"Show off," Kisuke muttered to Yoruichi, as they both landed back on two feet and hurried forward.

 

"Wimp," Yoruichi shot back, grinning.  "You're not even trying."

 

"Dooooooooooooll…"

 

"Gonna rescue your cousin?" he asked.

 

"Yech, are you _kidding?_ " Yoruichi said, looking nauseated at the mere thought.  "Stuck-up little—"

 

"FELLOVER!"

 

Yoruichi cut her sentence short, scurrying to hold her position as Tachibana turned around.  She wasn't quite so graceful this time around; Kisuke couldn't tell what it was exactly she'd been trying to imitate, but it looked like a bird about to take flight.  Having been caught off guard as well, Kisuke hadn't managed to come up with a pose and simply froze mid-step, trying very hard not to laugh at Yoruichi's hunched back and floppy, bent arms.

 

"HE MOVED, I SAW HIM MOVE, URAHARA MOVED!"

 

Such was the intensity of the outburst that all ten other players, Tachibana included, turned to gape at Akira, the rules of the game half-forgotten.  The boy was pointing straight at Kisuke, his eyes glowing with near savage glee.

 

Yoruichi, still holding her bird-like pose, narrowed her eyes at her cousin.  "No, he didn't."

 

"Yes, he did!" Akira said, rounding up on Tachibana.  "You saw him too, didn't you?"

 

Tachibana blushed a deep shade of red at the confronting question, shrinking away from Akira.  "Umm… I…"

 

" _Didn't_ you?" Akira repeated, folding his arms in front of his chest, looming over her shorter form. 

 

"I…I…" Tachibana mumbled, looking anywhere but straight at Akira.  "N-no… I… I didn't…"

 

"Are you _serious_?  He was laughing!"

 

"I… I didn't see—"

 

"I'm _telling_ you—"

 

"Okay, okay, I moved!" Kisuke said, holding his hands up.  "I'll come up to the front, all right?"

 

"You didn't move, Kisuke!" Yoruichi hissed at him, still glaring daggers at her cousin and having now abandoned her former pose, switching to one more suited to a feline poised to pounce at a moment's notice. 

 

The rest of their playmates had fallen silent, none of them looking eager to intervene and Kisuke couldn't exactly blame them; Akira's temper tantrums were the stuff of legend.  Kisuke wasn't exactly fond of every one of his classmates or Yoruichi's family, but Akira was the only one he well and truly despised.  The rest of the Shihouin clan (at least the members Kisuke had met) carried an almost universal air of superiority apparent in their every move and word, but he could think of no-one else who so readily abused his position as much as Akira did.  Like the rest of his family, the boy had been bred to lead and everything about him, his posture, his onyx hair and eyes, even the tone of his voice, only served to reinforce his already commanding presence.  Even Yoruichi, one of the least pompous individuals he knew, exuded the same natural air of authority, but whereas she used her strength to inspire and protect, Akira used every weapon in his arsenal to intimidate.

 

Under different circumstances, Kisuke might have taken a far more direct approach in dealing with Akira, but at present, he found it best not to prolong the uncomfortable situation.  "Oh c'mon, let it go," Kisuke muttered at Yoruichi.  "He keeps terrorizing her like that it's going to be a full-blown fight and I'm not really—"

 

"You didn't move!" Yoruichi insisted, meeting Kisuke's eyes, silently daring him to contradict her again.

 

"Listen to your creepy boyfriend, Yoruichi," Akira shot back, hands now in his pockets.  "At least he has the decency to admit he's a cheater when caught in the act." 

 

Kisuke and Yoruichi turned to face Akira in unison.  Kisuke didn't have to look down to know Yoruichi must've looked murderous right now.  It was clear the boy was itching for a fight, thought Kisuke wasn't sure whether his intended target had been him or Yoruichi, or perhaps even both of them.

 

"Take that back," Yoruichi threatened, her voice shaking with rage.

 

Relishing in her reaction, Akira broke into a broad sneer.  "Which part?  The part about him being your _boyfriend_ ," he said, emphasizing the last word in an overly saccharine voice.  "Or him being creepy?  Or a cheater?"

 

Sensing Yoruichi was seconds away from lunging at her cousin, Kisuke decided to intervene.  "Uhhh, can I weigh in here?" he said, raising one hand.  Akira shifted his gaze at him, giving him the kind of look one might bestow upon a particularly hideous insect.  "When exactly have I ever cheated?"

 

"You mean other than just now?" Akira said.

 

"Sure, yeah, whatever," Kisuke said, shrugging.

 

Akira let out a scoff.  "Every single time we play this blasted game you cheat!  EVERY.  TIME.  Am I the only one who's noticed?" he said, now addressing them all.  The response was unanimous; all around him, everyone stared back at Akira blankly.

 

"Apparently, yes," Kisuke said, grinning.

 

Akira's nostrils flared, the knuckles on his fisted hands turning white.  "Rock-paper-scissors!  That's where he does it!  He keeps losing every single round and if it's down to me and him in the end, he _always_ wins!"

 

"…I do?"

 

"YOU _KNOW_ YOU DO!" Akira said, having turned almost hysterical with anger at the lack of any support to his claim.  "We've played this _hundreds_ of times!  In the last seventy two games I've been in the final round forty seven times and _every_ time it's down to me and you, and you _always_ win.  _ALWAYS_!  You did it again just half an hour ago!  It can't be a coincidence!"

 

It was taking every ounce of discipline Kisuke had in his body –which wasn't much to begin with- not to show how this turn of events truly made him feel.  He struggled to keep a straight face, being only marginally successful, judging by the growing fury in Akira's eyes.  "Wow, you… you've been keeping count.  That's er… impressive?"

 

"DO YOU DENY IT?"

 

Kisuke let out a bemused chuckle, one hand rubbing the back of his neck.  "Deny what… exactly?  I mean… Rock-paper-scissors is pure luck," he said, taking a leaf out of Akira's book and turning to their playmates for support.  A few nodded in response.  "Isn't it?" Kisuke said, turning to Akira again.  "How could I have _possibly_ cheated in something like that?" he asked.  It was only for a split second, but for that brief period, while everyone's eyes were locked on Akira in disbelief at his outburst, Kisuke gave the boy just a hint of a smirk.  It was an acknowledgement, a congratulations even for his astuteness to have realized something was amiss, but it was also a clear taunt: he had absolutely no way of proving it and they both knew it. 

 

Perhaps he'd pushed his luck a little harder than he should have, Kisuke mused, but it was all worth it just to see Akira almost froth at the mouth, clearly struggling to come up with a way to explain what he couldn't fully understand to begin with.  It would've been a triumphant moment, if Akira, clever enough to know when he'd been beaten, hadn't shifted his attention back to Yoruichi.

 

"You should hurry up and have your father seal the deal," he told her.  "Don't want to have him betrothed to anyone else; the wildcat and the freak, a match made in heaven."       

 

Yoruichi launched herself on Akira before Kisuke could even blink.  By the time either he or anyone was able to react, she had already knocked a tooth out, her fist red with Akira's blood, and was straddling his lower back, pinning his limbs down so that all he could do was spit and curse at her in futility.  The reactions from the rest of the children were split: most of them were cheering for a fight - _What **fight**?  She's already won— _ while the rest looked torn between excitement and worry that a grown-up would show up any minute now. 

 

"SAY YOU'RE SORRY!" Yoruichi shrieked, repositioning one arm to secure both of Akira's at once, while using her now free hand to grab a hold of his hair.

 

To his credit, Akira had yet to dissolve into tears and beg for forgiveness, though he looked like he very much wanted to.  "DROP DEAD, YOU DOG-FACED DEMON!"

 

_Wow. Gotta give him points for alliteration._

 

" _SAY_ IT!"

 

"NEVER!"

 

As Yoruichi and Akira kept flinging insults at each other, Yoruichi giving his hair a good tug for emphasis with every syllable, Kisuke started to ponder on the best way to break up the fight.  He couldn't deny he was deriving great pleasure from the sight, but not only was someone bound to notice the commotion soon enough, he was also worried that things might get completely out of hand and Yoruichi would land in actual trouble.  His thoughts were cut short when a whisper rose among the other children, indicating that they had already been found out.  Kisuke followed the crowd's gaze, then felt his stomach drop when he saw Ms. Fujiwara hurrying down the grassy hill along with one of the estate guards.

 

 _Ohhhhh boy._   Out of time to come up with anything more refined, he hurried forward and wrapped one arm around Yoruichi's middle, placing the other up across her chest, hand resting on her shoulder.  "Yoruichi—"

 

"LET GO!"

 

"Ms.  Fujiwara," he whispered into her ear, pointing with his head toward the two approaching adults.

 

"Oh… crap," Yoruichi muttered under her breath, her shoulders drooping.  Resigning herself to her fate, she let Kisuke lift her up to her feet, the fight slowly leaving her body.

 

The following few minutes felt like hours.  Ms.  Fujiwara, looking livid, had demanded an explanation.  It took a long bout of silence filled with downcast eyes and shuffling feet until someone spoke, and even then, it was only because Ms. Fujiwara threatened the entire class with an extra four hours of history lessons every day for the foreseeable future.  Little by little, the story was wrenched out of the tight-lipped children, until their teacher had a –mostly- accurate idea of what had transpired.  True to form, she had been fair when dealing out punishment; both Yoruichi and Akira got the brunt of her wrath, but the rest of their company wasn't spared as they were admonished for not having intervened sooner.  Her eyes had rested just a fraction longer on Kisuke's face as she'd said those last few words.  She declared them all partly responsible for the incident and ordered them to compose an essay each on what they should've done differently.  Yoruichi and Akira were sent to their respective rooms with extra homework assigned, told there would be no more outings for either of them for the rest of the weekend, not even for meals which would be brought to their quarters instead.

 

All in all, the atmosphere as they all made it back inside the estate was not unlike that of a funeral.  Kisuke kept trying to make eye contact with Yoruichi, but she refused to look up from the floor, her eyes still bright with anger.  He gave up by the time they reached his apartment, watching her departing form forlornly before Ms. Fujiwara hissed at him to get inside and start working on his essay until dinner time.  "Yes, Ms. Fujiwara," he muttered, and quickly complied, slipping through the door. 

 

The apartment was empty, his mother not having returned yet from her afternoon meeting with her peers.  Asuka, her handmaiden, wasn't scheduled to return until before dinner, either.  Kisuke checked the small golden clock on the stand by the door.  5:12 p.m.  Dinner was at 7.  It was Saturday, which meant that at this hour, Yoruichi's mother was at her weekly flower arrangement class with the rest of the court ladies.  Ms. Fujiwara would have to wait until the end of class to inform her of the spat between her daughter and nephew.   _More than enough time._

 

Feeling confident he was correct in his assessment, Kisuke waited for a few moments, then reopened the apartment door and took a peek outside to make sure the coast was clear.  He tried to act casual as he made it down the hallways toward the east wing of the estate, where the Shihouin apartments were located.  Naturally, that particular block was far more heavily guarded, but he wasn't likely to be questioned about his presence there; it wouldn't be the first time he called on Yoruichi.  Still, he couldn't ignore the possibility that Ms. Fujiwara had distinctly forbidden guests in the princess's apartment for now, so as he delved deeper into the Shihouin wing, he began to consider ways to mask his presence.

 

Eventually, he made it to Yoruichi's corridor and took a careful look around the corner.  As always, the two sentries tasked with her protection stood outside the door, vigilant.  A distraction may have worked with a single guard, but it definitely wouldn't with two.  His only two options for moving forward were to either go to the end of the hallway, open the window and magically scale the naked walls to Yoruichi's suite, or turn the corner down to her corridor and make up some sort of feeble excuse both guards would immediately dismiss.  _All right, hidden option number three,_ Kisuke thought, stepping over to the opposite side of the hallway and hugged the wall, making use of the sparse lighting and shsdows to reach the window unseen. 

 

Carefully, he pulled it open and climbed up to the sill, willing himself not to look down.  With one hand clasping the edge of the windowsill, he climbed over to the other side, coming to a stop as soon as he felt his feet hit the shingles of the roof.  There was nowhere to go from there, unless he was looking for a swift death, but the small outcrop did have a view of Yoruichi's room.  Kisuke bent down, running his palm over the violet shingles until he spotted a loose one and was able to break off a small piece.  Biting his lip, he aimed, then flung it towards the only visible window that belonged to Yoruichi's room.  The hit was successful, but was long enough before he got any kind of response that Kisuke was already down on his knees, looking for a new piece, when Yoruichi finally opened her window.

 

It took her a while to spot him, but when she did, she had to do a double-take at the sight of him kneeling out by the ledge, waving at her like it was the most natural thing in the world to be doing.  He didn't have to be able to read lips to understand she was mouthing something along the lines of "What are you doing?"

 

Kisuke pointed toward the window he had just crawled out of, but Yoruichi simply shook her head, not understanding.  He then imitated a guard and shielded his eyes with his palm, hoping she would see what he was getting at.  It took her a moment, but she seemed to have caught on.  Nodding, she held up her thumb, then closed her window again. 

 

Kisuke climbed back into the building, waiting until he heard the distant sound of Yoruichi's door opening in order to shut the window.  Standing on tip-toe, he approached the corner and took a careful look.  He could hear Yoruichi talking, but he was far enough that the conversation wasn't clear.  The tone of her voice seemed to indicate she was asking for something, in a rather mincing manner, no less.  The guard on the left, the one she was addressing, hesitated but eventually caved to her request and abandoned his post.  Yoruichi turned to the other man next, the one Kisuke recognized as Sakumo, and she started talking to him, keeping him with his back turned to the corridor.

 

Recognizing this as his cue to act, Kisuke quickly took off his sandals and hugged the wall again, tip-toeing as fast and as silently as he could toward the door.  As he got closer, he could hear Sakumo's stentorian voice while he entertained Yoruichi with some of his raunchier haikus.  He truly had to give her props for her timing; as Sakumo reached the end of another haiku and she saw that Kisuke was still a few steps away, Yoruichi feigned ignorance, pretending not to get the joke.  Sakumo laughed, then set about explaining it in as delicate terms as he could.  When Kisuke was only a couple of steps away, Yoruichi broke into near-hysterical laughter, giving him more than enough cover to mask the noise he was about to make as he slipped into her apartment.

 

The second he was in the clear, Kisuke's knees gave out and he sank to the floor, his heart racing.  Yoruichi remained outside, still making idle conversation with Sakumo.  The reason for her delay became apparent when the second guard returned.  Yoruichi thanked him profusely, making her way inside at last.

 

"Now get back to your homework, and keep this quiet, all right?" Sakumo said, as he closed the door behind her.  "Or that teacher of yours will have my hide."

 

Yoruichi, now carrying a plate full of rice crackers, gave Sakumo a military salute, a cracker sticking out of her grinning mouth. 

 

The door closed with a loud thud and Kisuke was finally able to breathe normally, still sprawled out on the floor.  He gave her a questioning look.  

 

Yoruichi finished eating her cracker and indicated the plate.  "Told Hibiki I couldn't wait till dinner and he brought me a snack," she explained.

 

Kisuke nodded, setting his sandals aside by the door and getting up to his feet, still a little adrenaline-pumped by the stunt they'd just pulled.  "Need help with that homework?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

 

"That's what you're here for?" Yoruichi asked, arching both eyebrows.

 

"Uhh… yeah," Kisuke said, a little puzzled by the question.  It wasn't as though they could freely play a game with the guards standing right outside the door.

 

Yoruichi gave him a very odd, calculating look, then she shrugged and marched off toward her study area.  "Come on, then," she said.

 

He had been in her apartment before, but the visits were short-lived enough that he hadn't truly appreciated till now just how large it was compared to any other living quarters he'd visited in the castle.  If he had to guess, he'd say that Yoruichi was the only child in the estate below the age of one hundred and thirty living in an apartment completely separate to that of her parents.  He doubted even her cousins were afforded that privilege.  Her bedroom door was drawn shut, but judging by the rest of the apartment, it was the size of both his and his mother's combined, no doubt outfitted with a walk-in closet holding all the finery she was required to don as the heir to the Shihouin name.  The large living room serving as a dining hall and study was as large as the one in their apartment, but it was decorated with the most refined, luxurious furniture and pieces of art Kisuke had ever seen.  The majority of the room, however, looked as though it might have only just been furnished; knowing Yoruichi, she had no use for the large cherry wood table, or the priceless jade artifacts sitting daintily upon the many gleaming surfaces.  It was clear that she spent most of her day in the open study by the right side of the room: the area surrounding her low desk had a far cozier, lived-in feel to it than the rest of the apartment did.  Currently, the study was overflowing with a mass of comfortable, fluffy pillows strewn about haphazardly, the desk heaving with various books and scrolls.

 

Yoruichi plopped down onto the pillows, pushing her inkwells aside to make room for the bowl.  She reached for another cracker, then busied herself with the open, half-finished scroll on the desk before her. 

 

Kisuke joined her, taking a seat right across the desk, feeling a little baffled by her attitude.  It didn't take a master reader of physical cues to discern that she was displeased about something he'd said or done, but he had no idea what that might be.  He would've understood if she was still upset about her fight with Akira, perhaps blamed him in part for it, but she'd been acting perfectly normal up until he'd offered to help with her homework.  His back ramrod straight, Kisuke fiddled with his hands, observing Yoruichi for any visible clue as to what had changed her mood so suddenly.  She had yet to speak to him, and was seemingly absorbed by –he squinted as he tried to read her writing upside down- their math assignment. 

 

Unable to bear the silence any longer, Kisuke cleared his throat gently.  "So, umm… What can I do?"

 

Without looking up from her scroll, Yoruichi said, "You're the one who showed up eager to help.  What do you wanna do?"

 

"I just thought… if I helped you out we could get it done quickly and you won't have to spend all weekend studying," Kisuke said.  "So anything's fine."

 

"I dunno, last time we studied together you weren't very helpful," Yoruichi said, shrugging.  "Lost half an hour arguing about who was right, another half hour with me reading out my notes to you to prove _I_ had it right, and we still only got a 78%."

 

Kisuke bit on the inside of his cheek hard to keep himself from saying something he might regret.  He remembered the incident she was referring to all too well.  Normally, it was Yoruichi who set the pace in their study sessions, pushing him through the kind of work he found mind-numbing.  They had a very efficient system, with her tackling the easier assignments while he worked on their 'weekend projects', then a session during which they tutored one another through concepts each had difficulty grasping, and the study period ended with Kisuke copying the work Yoruichi had completed at the start.  All right, so perhaps it wasn't a very fair system for _her_ , but it _was_ efficient and it did afford him the time to come up with games they both found satisfying.  Was she perhaps fed up with their arrangement?  He couldn't really blame her if that was the case.

 

The unfairness of their system aside, the study session she was talking about had been an unmitigated disaster.  Looking over Yoruichi's work at the end, Kisuke had noticed a few glaring mistakes, the kind he couldn't believe someone as bright as Yoruichi would ever make.  When he'd pointed them out, she had insisted she had done nothing wrong, and showed him the notes in question.  Kisuke had known, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was mistaken, but for reasons he couldn't bring himself to reveal to her, he had gone along with it.  He could've sworn that when they got their marked work back, he'd seen Yoruichi out of the corner of his eye, smirking at his grimace.

 

"I promise I'll do a better job proof-reading this time around," Kisuke forced himself to say, grinning.  "We probably didn't spend long enough checking for more mistakes last time."

 

Yoruichi looked up from her scroll at long last, but it wasn't a pleasant expression Kisuke was met with.  Lips pursed, brow knit, she gave him the kind of look she reserved for people who tried her patience to the limit.  "Mmm-hmmm," was all she said, not bothering to disguise the wry tone, then rolled her eyes back down to her work.

 

"Okay, _what_ did I do?" Kisuke asked, unwilling to dance around the subject anymore.  "It's obviously not about the fight, or you wouldn't have helped me sneak in, so what is it about this homework thing that's upset you so much?"

 

Taking in a deep, calming breath, Yoruichi set her brush down very slowly.  When she made eye-contact again, she no longer looked annoyed, or in the mood for sarcasm; her eyes were alight with pure anger.  "What you did is that you _lied_ to me!"

 

"What?  When did I ever—?"

 

Yoruichi grabbed her spare –thankfully sealed- inkwell and threw it straight at him, hitting him on the shoulder.

 

Kisuke barely had the presence of mind to conceal his yowl of pain into a semi-convincing fit of coughing, before he turned to her, his expression matching hers.  "What was _that_ for?" he hissed at her, struggling to keep his voice low and not alert the two guards outside that Yoruichi was not alone.

 

"Stop lying about lying!" Yoruichi shot back, index finger pointing at him.

 

"But I don't underst—"

 

"You didn't come here to _help me with homework_ ," Yoruichi said, placing her palms on the desk and leaning closer to him.  "You came here because you felt guilty.  Which is stupid, by the way."

 

Kisuke rubbed his sore shoulder, tearing his gaze away from Yoruichi.  How could she possibly have known?  "I… I really don't—"

 

"You don't have to feel guilty for what Akira did today," Yoruichi said, falling back onto the pillows, arms folded.  "If you hadn't messed with him in rock-paper-scissors, he would've still found another excuse to be a jerk, it's what he _does_.  He was ruining everyone's playtime long before you came here."

 

"You… You shouldn't let Akira get to you," Kisuke said.  "He's just sore because he's ten years older than you, but he's still seventh in line to be the heir.  Plus, he hasn't once beaten you in anything, especially combat training."

 

Yoruichi's expression softened for just a fraction of a moment, her cheeks reddening, but she caught herself and tightened her folded arms.  "First of all, _duh_ , second, I can't believe you call everyone but me by their last names but you still call that jerkface by his first name."

 

"You have three uncles, three aunts and eight cousins, and that's just on your dad's side.  I can't call all of you Shihouin in the same conversation; it'll get very confusing."

 

"Fine, whatever.  Oh and _third,_ don't try to change the subject," she said.  "This is about you lying to me and I want to know _why_."

 

Kisuke avoided her gaze again, at a loss of what to say.  How would he even _begin_ to go about this?  He'd never deceived her out of malice, or any intent to make fun of her, he had to make that clear, but he had many good reasons for having been dishonest about certain things, reasons that had nothing to do with how he felt about her, about what they had. 

 

Yoruichi let out a sigh, reaching for the bowl of crackers and pulling out one.  "Okay, we'll do this the hard way then," she said, stuffing half a cracker into her mouth.  She appeared to be thinking about how to proceed next and only spoke once she was done chewing.  "I know about the rock-paper-scissors thing.  I have _no_ idea how you do it, but it's always fun to see Akira lose his marbles over it.  I guess it has to do with you being a genius or something?  Like, you can predict what he's gonna do next because he's such a sucky actor?" 

 

Kisuke felt his shoulders seize up first, then his entire body.  Swallowing hard, he forced himself to look at Yoruichi.  She was staring back at him a little impatiently, but at the very least, all vestiges of anger had drained away from her face.  "……Something like that."

 

Yoruichi nodded, scarfing down the other half of the cracker.  "First week here, you asked Instructor Mori something after math class," Yoruichi said.  "I dunno what it was, but he was freaking out about it to Ms. Fujiwara at diner, I heard.  Then I started to notice things, too.  I mean, I could see you were clever, but you did hide just how clever pretty well.  And then you slipped up once.  I memorized something I read in my father's library about binding spells, some term or something, no idea what it meant, and mentioned it when you were too busy thinking about something else to notice.  You just answered, not missing a beat, and I couldn't even understand what you'd just said.  Then there's also the whole building stuff thing.  You're an inventor.  They're usually pretty smart.  And before you say anything, I _do_ know I was wrong in our last study session.  I did it on purpose, rewrote all my notes with mistakes just to see how far you were gonna go with it.  I was impressed you stuck it out all the way to the end."

 

All Kisuke could do was gape as Yoruichi explained in detail exactly how she had seen through his cover.  If she was impressed he had stuck to his story, he was doubly impressed at the amount of effort she had put into forcing him to admit he'd been lying to her. 

 

"So," Yoruichi said, setting the bowl down on the desk again.  "Now that I've proven I am a _master_ detective and you are a _filthy_ liar, are you gonna tell me why?  I mean, I honestly don't get it.  It's usually stupid people who act like they're smarter.  You're, like, off the charts smart.  So why are you pretending to be an idiot, idiot?"

 

It was the look in her eyes that made it impossible for him to maintain the ruse.  She was genuinely interested, she actually _cared_ about the hows and whys of his elaborate act, and all of a sudden, Kisuke felt the full weight of his constant effort to be someone he wasn't strain his shoulders.  He was _exhausted_.  And even more importantly, he didn't want to lie to Yoruichi anymore.  "Because if I don't…" he began, worrying his fingers.  "You… You won't like me anymore."

 

It was clearly not the response Yoruichi had expected.  "Why would you think that?" she asked, her eyes softening.

 

There was a long pause before he responded, and in the end, he was only able to do so when he wasn't facing her.  Feeling his cheeks flush, he wrapped his arms tightly around his middle, staring at his knees.  "Experience."

 

 He could remember, with perfect clarity, the first time he had been assigned a tutor back at the Urahara manor.  He had always assumed that to be brimming with questions was the ordinary state of all beings, as his mother had always been patient enough to answer them all for him.  What was even more wonderful was that through their conversations, he found that sometimes, instead of receiving the information he'd sought, he had formed new questions instead, ones that delved deeper into the core of the subject he was interested in.  The day he realized his tutors either weren't so patient, or as knowledgeable as his mother, he had taken pause.  Every now and then, he would ask something that apparently didn't merit an answer, but a puzzling expression in response.  Kisuke had seen that look before, on his cousins, his uncles and aunts, his paternal grandparents, but he had never been able to pinpoint its exact nature until that moment.

 

It was fear.

 

He'd understood then, what his mother had been trying to shield him from all those years.  Knowing her, she must have received her fair share of similar looks when unravelling the depths of her brilliant mind out in the open.  They were different, the two of them, and he knew it was part of the reason why the rest of their clan had always kept them at arm's length.

 

What pained him the most, was that without even realizing it, his mother had always treated him like he was different as well.  The looks she gave him were always filled with pride and love, but they were still a reminder of the fact that he didn't fit in anywhere.  She had known the loneliness and despair that came with being apart from the crowd, and Kisuke had hoped this would've taught her better, but he suspected she was instead trying to counter the rejection he experienced with an equally strong positive force.  He was grateful to her for it, he loved her for it, but he'd always wished she could see how her singling him out, even under a positive light, could be equally problematic.

 

In the years before they'd moved to the Shihouin Castle, Kisuke had developed his own coping methods to deal with either situation.  When it came to his father's family, he learned very quickly that any awkward moment could be defused with a well-placed distraction.  Whether it was their usual scorn of them both due to his mother's heritage, or their fear of her cleverness, he knew exactly how to direct their attention elsewhere.  Even if his clan didn't quite share his sense of humor, the result was always the desired one; it took the pressure off either one or both of them, and it left Kisuke looking like an idiot.  He was certain his family wasn't quite convinced he had suddenly turned from an inquisitive person to a bumbling buffoon, but that had never been his goal, anyway; he was now considered eccentric enough not to be seen as a threat to them in any way and that suited him just fine.  Feigning ignorance wasn't a trick that was going to work in front of his mother, but it worked wonders for his peers and tutors.  It had been a delicate balance to achieve, but he knew by now exactly how much to say and how much to hide to keep his academic performance from disappointing his mother.

 

The only wrench in his well-honed defense mechanism was Yoruichi.  He couldn't quite put it to words, what their association was, exactly.  The word 'friend' felt alien to him, simply because he wasn't positive on what constituted a friend.  He understood it on an intellectual level, observed the way such relationships worked in their world, but he knew instinctively that he'd never made a friend before in his life.  A combination of his personality and his mother's determination to keep him sheltered had resulted in very little social interaction outside of his immediate family.  What little socialization managed to slip through the cracks had always been awkward and fraught with long pauses and cagey words.  Yoruichi was the first person to ever express the slightest interest in spending time with him, and it made Kisuke both wary and excited.

 

She was clever; perhaps not in the same way he was, but her quick reflexes extended far beyond the classroom.  If he had to describe her in one word, it would be adaptable; Yoruichi didn't waste her time analyzing situations to death.  She dealt with whatever came her way without batting an eyelash, and if a more prudent strategy was needed, she knew when to retreat and consider her next step carefully.  One thing they had in common was their curiosity, but whereas Kisuke needed to prod and search deeper before acting, Yoruichi was satisfied with a working understanding of the principles if it satisfied her current needs.  Her fierceness was what had impressed him the most when they'd first met, but it was the small, nearly imperceptible ways in which she showed her gentler side that had won him over: her sense of humor, the way she never abused her social standing, her willingness to fight for what she believed in.  She carried the weight of the Shihouin name, all twenty-one generations of it on her young shoulders, and she did it with grace and humility, all the while knowing that no less than fourteen people living under the same roof as her were waiting in the wings, hoping she would one day fail.  She was extraordinary, and Kisuke still couldn't believe a person like her had taken an interest in him in the first place.   

 

It was embarrassing to realize now how naïve he'd been, thinking he would be perfectly content to go through life without the companionship of his peers.  Once he had gotten a taste of what it felt like to have a friend like her, he had instantly become addicted to it.  How could he possibly explain all this to her, why he felt the need to pretend?  It had been difficult enough to keep up the act for so long, but once he'd seen Yoruichi wasn't easily fooled, he'd had to redouble his efforts.  Whatever it was he was projecting to others through his performance, it was obviously something that appealed to Yoruichi, and knowing his real self would undoubtedly put her off.  Statistically speaking, it was an absolute certainty, given his past experiences.  He didn't know if they were friends yet, but he hadn't been willing to push the boundaries of the first genuinely rewarding, non-familial relationship of his life for something as prosaic as an unnecessary truth. 

 

"Well, guess what?" Yoruichi said.  "I don't like you when you play stupid.  At first I thought you were just bored in class or something, so I thought it was fine, none of my business.  I get not wanting to attract the attention of morons who are intimidated by you.  But when you did it to _me_ … it just… it really pissed me off.  Because I've _never_ lied to you, and I've _never_ felt intimidated because you're smart.  I'm not hanging out with you for your _brains_."

 

"Then…?"

 

Yoruichi shrugged.  "You're fun.  You come up with new games all the time and you're nice.  But not so nice that you're boring; you like to tease people as much as I do, you're just a stinkin' liar and don't want to admit it.  And I don't care if you lie to other people, but don't ever lie to me again, okay?"

 

Kisuke couldn't help but smile at her, wondering if she had the slightest inkling of how much he'd been yearning to hear that someone other than his mother like him for who he was.  That his intellect didn't matter one way or the other, but was simply a part of who he was and was accepted as such.  Nodding at Yoruichi, silently vowing to keep his promise and never lie to her again, he struggled to keep himself together and not do something utterly embarrassing, like cry.

 

"And start telling people you're a lazy bum who would be failing _everything_ if it wasn't for me!" Yoruichi added for good measure.

 

Kisuke let out a chuckle at her outburst.  _Okay, yeah, I probably deserve that._ "I'm not lazy."

 

"Yes you are, you're just all 'Yes, Ms. Fujiwara,' 'Of _course_ , Ms. Fujiwara,'" Yoruichi said, her voice taking on a servile, overly girlish tone as she performed her impression of him.  "And then copy all my work and everyone thinks _I'm_ the one mooching off _you_!"

 

"But that frees up time for me to come up with the rules for stuff like Sling Shot."

 

Yoruichi opened her mouth once, clearly about to respond, but seemed to think better of it as she considered what he'd just said.  She closed her mouth again and blinked at him, looking puzzled but also intrigued.  "Slingshot?"

 

"No: Sling. Shot.  Two words.  But I… should probably call that a working title, come to think of it," Kisuke said.

 

"……What's Sling Shot?"

 

"Just what it sounds like."

 

"It sounds like you fire stuff off a sling."

 

"Yup."

 

"But what _rules_?  How is that different from using an _actual_ slingshot?"

 

"It's three and a half feet tall and launches _you_ into the air.  And into the koi pond.  You score points for best landing.  Hence the rules."

 

Yoruichi's eyes hazed over as she undoubtedly tried to picture the contraption.  She looked exhilarated at the idea.  And a little scared. 

 

 _Excellent Sling Shot attitude, really.  Damn, I should think of a new name, it **really** doesn't work, _ he thought."I still need to fine-tune it, but it should be ready for a test run next weekend.  Y'know… if you don't knock a few more of Akira's teeth out and get grounded again."

 

Yoruichi scrunched her nose up at him, dismissing his taunt.  "Yeah, well, I would try _your_ way of shutting him up, but I can't read minds, or whatever it is you do."

 

"I could teach you the trick."

 

"Really?" she said, leaning over the desk eagerly. 

 

He didn't know if he should take it personally that the thought of messing with her cousin appealed to her more than the machine he'd been working on for _weeks_ , but he let it go.  Making Akira froth at the mouth _was_ very entertaining, after all.  "Sure," he said.  "It's not that hard, it just takes time, and all you have to do is observe, really.  Most people tend to use the same move when they win.  But when they lose, they'll usually switch.  The most common pattern is rock-paper-scissors-rock.  But then you have to be careful with personal cues.  Your cousin, for example, gets angrier the more he loses and actually does the opposite of what he _thinks_ I expect him to do.  It's not an entirely useless strategy, but his biggest problem is that he's got tells all over the place.  He tends to square his shoulders when he's bluffing, so I know to switch as well.  I'll admit, sometimes I've just gone with my hunch and gotten lucky, but about 88% of the time he's been pretty transparent about it."

 

Yoruichi fell back onto the pillows with a flop.  "I think I liked it better when you were stupid," she said.  It was clearly meant to be a joke, but Kisuke couldn't help the instant, physical response he had to the remark.  His distress must've been so apparent, that Yoruichi immediately let out a snort of laughter.  "Man, you're _easy_!  I think I'll stick with violence though, thank you."

 

"Suit yourself," he said, a little embarrassed he had fallen for her taunt for even a fraction of a second.

 

She gave him a cheeky grin, then, without another word, she pushed her unfinished math homework at him and reached out for her kanji textbook instead.  "All right, let's get this over with; I wanna hear more about Sling Shot later."

 

Kisuke returned her grin, taking the scroll of parchment and rolling it out in front of him.  They fell into a comfortable silence, occasionally broken by the sound of one of them –mostly her- reaching for a cracker, or the sound of a brush being tapped against an inkwell.  Kisuke willed his wandering mind to concentrate on the task, get it out of the way so they could move on to something more entertaining, but his thoughts kept flitting back to their previous conversation.

 

He looked up from his work, chin resting on his balled fist, and observed Yoruichi as she lounged back against the pillows, her hose buried behind her textbook.  Every now and then, she would close her eyes and move her mouth, no doubt trying to memorize things like stroke order, pronunciation and exceptions, where applicable.  Biting down on his lower lip, he waited until she was done with her current page, before looking back down at his scroll and forcing himself to look nonchalant.   "So… You're not mad anymore?" he asked, venturing a careful look to see her reaction.

 

Yoruichi looked up from her book, shrugging.  "Well… As long as you don't keep lying to me, we're cool.  So no, not mad."

 

"And… you still like me?"

 

"Ugh, you're such a pansy sometimes!" she said, rolling her eyes at him.  "And they say it's girls who wanna talk about their _feeeeelings_ all the time."  He watched as she hid behind her book again, shaking her head at him.  She kept her eyes glued on the page, her pose a little stiffer than it had been before.  Over the rim of the book, he could only make out the top of her forehead and curiously enough, she appeared to be blushing, just a touch.  "Of course I like you, you idiot.  We're friends."

 

She didn't say another word for the ensuing hour, nor did she lower her textbook again.  Kisuke was thankful for that.  If she had, she might've seen the idiotic grin that refused to leave his face no matter how hard he tried.

 

* * *

 

 

**JUNE 2 ND, 240 B.H.I., SHIBA CLAN MANOR, COURT OF PURE SOULS **

 

 

Yoruichi ran her thumb over the rim of her teacup, staring down at the clear green liquid, too overwhelmed to let her gaze false elsewhere.

 

She hadn't been fooled; when her mother had proclaimed that they would be visiting the Shiba household for afternoon tea, Yoruichi had understood that it wasn't going to be a simple social call.  For one thing, though the two clans were on excellent terms and her mother met with Lady Shiba Etsuko on a regular basis, Yoruichi had never before been invited along.  Secondly, she had enough older cousins to know that she was at the age where betrothals were starting to be considered, and given how rare trueborn heirs were in their world, the choices were limited.  As she understood the custom, the agreement didn't become official until much later in life, mostly because a big difference in ages wasn't a detriment to an engagement.  Once both parties reached adulthood, true age only mattered in terms of spiritual power, after all.  Or so she had been told.

 

Despite having known all her life that this was what the future had in store for her in terms of marriage, Yoruichi had difficulty meeting her intended's eyes.  The boy, Shiba Kaien they'd called him, was a couple of decades younger than she was and looked like he hadn't quite grasped what was happening, as he happily sat by his mother, every now and then throwing Yoruichi curious glances.  Lady Etsuko was deep in conversation with Yoruichi's mother, occasionally directing questions to her daughter Kuukaku. Whenever Yoruichi's eyes left her cup, she would often direct them at the older girl in fascination; Kuukaku Shiba was the perfect picture of what a young noblewoman was expected to be.  Beautiful, quiet and well-spoken, her posture and mannerisms betraying the decades of hard work it must've taken to hone them down to the graceful result before her eyes.  Yoruichi would know; she had no memories of a time when she wasn't being taught how a lady was meant to speak, act and move.

 

As Lady Etsuko turned the conversation to the traditional December celebration of the Shihouin clan, Kuukaku Shiba turned toward Yoruichi.  Yoruichi looked away, blushing at having been caught staring.  She didn't want the older girl to think her a fool, especially if they would one day become sisters-in-law. 

 

"Mother, why don't I take Kaien and Princess Yoruichi out for a walk in your lovely azalea garden?" Kuukaku said, taking advantage of a natural pause in their mothers' conversation.  Yoruichi froze.  Rude though her fixation had been, she hadn't expected Kuukaku to acknowledge it out in the open, even in such a round-about manner.  She was under no delusions that Kuukaku had suddenly felt the urge to take her for a walk; the timing was a little too suspicious.  "This is a discussion for grown-ups, after all, and I'm certain it would be a splendid opportunity for them to get to know one another," Kuukaku said, smiling softly.

 

Yoruichi kept her eyes away from Kuukaku, hoping Lady Etsuko would refuse.  Not only did she not want to spend any time whatsoever with Shiba Kaien, she was certain Kuukaku would –rightly- admonish her for gaping at her.

 

"What a lovely idea," Lady Etsuko said, much to Yoruichi's chagrin.  "You're right, my dear, I haven't seen Lady Hana in so long we got a little carried away.  You weren't too terribly bored, were you, Princess Yoruichi?"

 

Yoruichi looked up timidly, clutching her cup and shaking her head.

 

"You are too polite," Lady Etsuko said, letting out a trill of laughter.  "Kaien, you can only take one," she told her son, who had his hand wrist deep into the bowl of crackers.  He stared at his mother with his large, beautiful green eyes in an expression he'd undoubtedly used to great effect in the past, but Lady Etsuko didn't budge.  "You don't want to spoil your dinner.  Off you go now, your sister is talking you and Princess Yoruichi for a walk." 

 

Kuukaku stood up before her brother, offering a hand which he took readily and jumped off his seat, wrapping his free hand tightly around what Yoruichi could see were two crackers.  "Coming, Princess Yoruichi?" Kuukaku said to her.

 

Yoruichi let her cup down gingerly and nodded, suddenly struck by how much taller Kuukaku was.  Though she knew the girl wasn't older than one hundred and fifty or so, she had the appearance of a woman grown; full bosom, lustrous, beautifully combed hair and the expression of someone who could read right through her.  It made Yoruichi feel even smaller and younger than her true years.  Sheepishly, she followed Kuukaku and her brother out of the tea room and into the corridor outside, all the while feeling the shameful urge to run back to her mother and bury her face into her neck.

 

Once the door was closed behind them, Kuukaku looked down both directions across the hallway, then bent down to get closer to her brother's level.  "Okay, kiddo," she said, her soft lilt and perfect posture suddenly forgotten.  "You wanna go for a walk with us or would you rather go play with Kiba?"

 

Kaien's eyes lit up at the suggestion, but he suddenly looked conflicted.  He stuck half a cracker in his mouth, looking from his sister to Yoruichi and back again, munching loudly.  "I want to ask Princess Yoruichi if she likes sweet dango or savery—"

 

"Savory."

 

"—savory best."

 

"Well, she's right there," Kuukaku said.  "Go on, ask her."

 

Kaien stepped up closer to her, the cracker now long gone, and repeated his question.  Yoruichi blinked at him a couple of times, not quite certain what was going on, before she said, "Savory."

 

The boy gave her a toothy grin, his cheeks littered with crumbles, and then he bolted right back to his sister.  "Okay, I'll go play with Kiba now."

 

"You do that," Kuukaku said, smiling fondly at him.  "And remember," she said, holding up her index finger against her lips.  Kaien mimicked her pose, then Kuukaku gave him a playful swat on his behind and watched him traipse down the corridor until he took a right turn and was out of their sight.  Standing up at her full height again, she turned to Yoruichi.  "It's how he judges if he likes someone.  You passed," she said, grinning.

 

Yoruichi gave Kuukaku a weak smile in return, still at a loss with what had just transpired.  Originally, she had thought that Kuukaku Shiba had wanted to talk to her in private either to admonish her, or perhaps to ascertain if she was good enough for her little brother.  Given what she'd just seen, however, Yoruichi understood that Kuukaku's previous performance of a perfect lady was a very impressive, carefully executed act. 

 

"Let's you and I go for that walk, shall we?" Kuukaku said, marching over to her and placing a hand on her shoulder.  "Not the azalea garden, though, smell makes me nauseous."

 

Emboldened by the lack of any reproach, Yoruichi finally found her voice again and looked up at the girl.  "Where are we going?"

 

"I was thinking I might take you to the herb garden," Kuukaku said.  "It's nice and quiet, fewer prying eyes.  What do you say?"

 

"Sure."

 

The two walked in silence though the estate's hallways, Yoruichi keeping her eyes focused in front of her, pretending not to notice the furtive looks Kuukaku shot her every now and then.  As they made their way around the azalea garden – _She was right, the smell **is** pretty overpowering-_ the older girl finally spoke.

 

"I think I've seen you once or twice before," she said, her brow knit.  "At your family's annual end of December festival.  What's it called again?"

 

"You mean the Founding Day celebration?" Yoruichi asked.

 

"Yes, that.  I visited with my father a few times for the delivery.  I think we even attended a few years ago.  We provide the fireworks, you know."

 

"I do know that," Yoruichi said.  "They're always wonderful; your clan is very talented, Lady Shiba."

 

Kuukaku's expression turned from mild interest to amusement.  "Oh, you're _good_ ," she said, chuckling.

 

"What do you mean?" 

 

"It's just that the last time I saw you, you were being chased by your governess out of a koi pond and forced into clothes," Kuukaku said, folding her hands behind her back.  "But look at you now, all lady-like and _proper_."

 

Yoruichi couldn't recall the specific occasion Kuukaku was referring to, but it had once been common enough an occurrence that it was pointless to question the truth of her claim.  She blushed at the thought of having been called out this way, before she remembered that the Shiba girl had just revealed herself to be of a similar disposition.

 

"You're one to talk," Yoruichi said, boldly meeting the challenge in Kuukaku's eyes.

 

The girl's eyebrows arched upwards and disappeared under her thick, black fringe of hair, before she burst into laughter.  "Guilty as charged," she said.  "So, shall we drop this Lady Shiba, Lady Shihouin nonsense?  I'm Kuukaku," she said, coming to a stop and holding her hand out to Yoruichi.

 

"Yoruichi," she said and reached out to slip her smaller hand in Kuukaku's, now smiling genuinely at her.

 

Kuukaku returned the smile, then let go of their joined hands and motioned behind her with her head.  "C'mon, Yoruichi," she said, striding down the path and into what Yoruichi assumed was the herb garden she'd mentioned earlier.

 

The way ahead was paved in porous, red stone, branching out in perfectly aligned horizontal and vertical directions.  Yoruichi had first assumed the garden was square in shape, but the plants surrounding her extended far beyond what she could see in her immediate vision, suggesting something more along the lines of a rectangle.  The converging paths sectioned the garden into small squares, one for each of the herb hosted within.  As they moved on ahead, Kuukaku explained that everything was labeled and positioned carefully, to optimize growth according to each plant's specific needs.  The few empty plots they came across every now and then had been deliberately left that way, she said, and would once again be cultivated when said herb was in season.

 

It was certainly an impressive part of the manor's grounds, but Yoruichi was a little confused as to what Kuukaku had brought her there for.  Somehow, she doubted the girl had suddenly felt like giving a lecture on agriculture.  The mystery of Kuukaku's purpose for this trip was solved when she led Yoruichi under the shade of a tree, right by a section of fragrant thyme plants.  She took a seat on the small patch of grass before the tree, back resting against the bark, and then dipped her hand into her left sleeve, pulling out a long, glistening red pipe.  Yoruichi noticed that something was tied underneath the nozzle, but before she could ask, her curiosity was sated as Kuukaku undid the small piece of string to release a piece of flint and a thin metal plate.

 

"Have a seat," she told Yoruichi, before sticking the pipe in her mouth and lighting it up.

 

Yoruichi sat down next to her, watching as the older girl took in a deep drag of smoke, eyes closed, then exhaled with a pleasurable sigh.

 

"So…" Kuukaku said, opening her eyes again and stretching out her legs.  "How does it feel like to meet your future husband?" she asked.  There was an edge of sarcasm to her voice as she said that, but it didn't help Yoruichi feel any more comfortable at the confronting question.

 

When Shiba Kuukaku had revealed her true colors a few minutes ago, Yoruichi had been more than glad for the distraction.  She'd hoped the two of them would spent what little time they had doing or talking about something else, anything but the betrothal.

 

Kuukaku must've belatedly realized her error, as she hurried to explain herself.  "Hey, hey, I was only teasing," she said, looking at Yoruichi sympathetically.  "No need to make that face; it was a joke."

 

 _Not a very funny one,_ Yoruichi thought, bringing her knees up to her chest and hugging her legs.  It was a difficult enough notion to wrap her head around, the thought of one day marrying that little boy, without the added pressure of having to discuss the issue with a stranger.  If there was one thing that had been a source of comfort once she'd realized what this visit was all about, it was the knowledge that she wouldn't have to give the matter any serious thought for many decades, but Kuukaku's comment was forcing her to confront concepts that were simply beyond her.

 

"Look, Yoruichi," Kuukaku said, toying with the pipe in her hands.  "The reason I brought you out here in the first place was because I thought you might benefit from the experience of someone older.  Someone's who's been in your position and wasn't exactly thrilled with the situation, either."

 

Yoruichi rested her cheek on her knees, looking at Kuukaku.  "You're betrothed, too?" she asked, but recognized the naiveté of her words as soon as they left her mouth.  Kuukaku was, after all, the heir of a very prominent family and nearly a century or so older than Yoruichi herself.  It was only logical that a match would have been made for her at a younger age.

 

"Not anymore."

 

It wasn't the answer Yoruichi had expected to hear.  The only instances in which she had ever heard of a broken engagement, either one or both of the people involved had met their final death.  There hadn't been a recent passing among nobility that she'd heard of, at least no-one who could have realistically been Kuukaku's intended. 

 

Kuukaku took a long drag off her pipe again, staring at the distance.  "It was about a year ago, but you wouldn't have heard of it.  His family hushed it up as best they could," she began.  "It's a good thing it ended before any official engagement ceremony, or my father might've taken offense."

 

The way Kuukaku spoke of the incident gave Yoruichi the impression that there was far more to the story than she was being told.  The curious part of her was hoping Kuukaku might elaborate, but her more sensible side was impressed by her tact and her respect of someone else's private life.  It would've been indelicate and presumptuous of Yoruichi to ask for details, seeing as they barely knew each other, so instead she went for the question that concerned her the most.  "Does that… happen often?" she asked, a glimmer of hope lighting up inside of her at the new piece of information.  "A betrothal ending before it can become official?"

 

"I wouldn't say often, but it's not unheard of," Kuukaku said.  "There's few enough of us that it could become a problem if people start breaking off engagements left and right, I suppose.  But that shouldn't stop you from doing what you think is best for _you_."

 

Yoruichi let out a sigh, one finger idly following the chrysanthemum pattern embroidered on her kimono.  "Easy for you to say… You have two siblings," she said.  It wasn't a secret that it had taken Yoruichi's parents a long time to secure their much-needed heir.  The other three branches of her family had been more fortunate in that respect and could have easily taken over as head of the clan if she hadn't been born, but it would have been a massive blow to her father's pride; the long line starting from the first head of the Shihouin clan and ending with her had so far been unbroken.  While it wasn't impossible that Yoruichi could one day have siblings, it didn't seem likely.  As such, the pressure of furthering the Shihouin line fell entirely on her shoulders, whereas someone like Kuukaku could afford to be a little more lax in terms of who she married, or whether she married at all in the first place.  From what Yoruichi knew of the girl, she had more than enough talent to one day join the academy and the Thirteen Divisions if she so chose.

 

"You got me there," Kuukaku admitted, turning to look at Yoruichi.  "But hey, you know what?  Maybe by the time you and Kaien grow up, I'll be the head of the family and I promise I won't take offense if you want to back out."

 

Even though Yoruichi knew full well this wasn't likely to happen, she was grateful to Kuukaku for suggesting it.  If nothing else, it was at least a promise that she would have Kuukaku's support if she ever found that she and Kaien were truly compatible as future mates.  "You… really wouldn't mind?" she asked.  "If I don't want to marry your brother when I grow up?"

 

"You're… what?  Fifty?  Sixty?" Kuukaku asked.

 

"Sixty one in a few months," Yoruichi said a little defensively.  Did she really look only fifty?

 

"Sixty then.  Kaien is forty-three.  Right now, he's in love with crackers, his puppy and the color red.  Last month it was green, and he was adamant that his favorite food was botamochi," Kuukaku said.  "I suspect he'll change his mind about things a thousand times before he can even fully appreciate what it means to marry someone, and so will you.  Even our tight-assed clan elders understand this, which is why they don't make engagements official until later in life.  So no, I really, _really_ won't be offended if you ever think my brother isn't right for you, I swear."

 

Yoruichi couldn't help but let out a small snort at Kuukaku's choice of words for the –admittedly- rigid clan elders.  It felt a little surreal, to speak to a person who so closely resembled what Yoruichi wanted her future self to be.  Kuukaku was confident, clever and she didn't shy away from a little vulgarity to get her point across. 

 

Yoruichi had often wondered what it might be like, to have a sibling like all her cousins did.  She supposed a good friend like Kisuke was the closest she would ever get, especially since they were both only children, but every example she had of relationships between friends and siblings suggested the two could be vastly different.  In her mind's eye, the hypothetical sibling had always been an older brother for some reason, but when Kuukaku changed the subject and set about getting to know Yoruichi, asking her questions about her life, she was unexpectedly filled with yearning for something she hadn't realized she'd ever wanted: an older sister.

 

When it was time to return home, Yoruichi found herself wishing their visit could have lasted longer, that she could have spent more time laughing to Kuukaku's jokes and watching her perform small spell tricks as per Yoruichi's requests.  She was unable to hide her disappointment as she stood by her mother's side, bidding farewell to the Shiba family and thanking them for a lovely evening, until Kuukaku suggested they make a habit out of meeting for a cup of tea and having lively discussions on matters that concerned proper ladies.  She put some barely noticeable emphasis on the word 'proper,' giving her a wink that went unnoticed by everyone else.

 

Yoruichi might have hugged her, but public displays of affection were not something proper ladies ever did.

 

* * *

 

 

**OCTOBER 20 TH, 240 B.H.I., SHIHOUIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS **

 

For the first time in his life, books had completely and utterly failed Kisuke.  The array of large volumes scattered around him on the floor of the dining room hadn't proven as helpful as he'd hoped; they spent paragraphs upon paragraphs analyzing the finer points of the differences between healing spells and offensive spells, or the intricacies of blending two different spells together, but there was little to no information on practical aspects for beginners.  Clearly, most of them had been written with the intention of being used concurrently with practical lessons taught by an instructor.  Letting out a huff, Kisuke closed the volume on his lap with a loud thud, pushing it away. 

 

His curriculum included lessons on demon magic, the so-called kidou, but the name of the course was in reality no more than a technicality.  Classes were centered around spirit energy manipulation, but the actual skills involved in combining the particles into a usable form weren't meant to be taught for a few more years.  So far, they had only been instructed to work on maintaining any shape, no matter how amorphous, for increasing periods of time, as a means of improving their mental stamina.  Having achieved the desired result long ago, Kisuke had quickly grown bored with the slow pace of the class and had decided to take matters into his own hands.  Unfortunately, all relevant books in the Shihouin library and his own collection were a few steps ahead of where he needed to be in order to use them effectively.

 

The only piece of information he had been able to work with was a footnote on the basic principle concerning all kidou applications.  The paragraph suggested he picture the desired shape in mind and imagine throwing his body toward the center.  Through trial and error, he discovered that the darker the shape, the better the outcome, but his first marginal success resulted in a volatile blob of red energy that bounced against the ceiling, leaving a rather noticeable burn mark before dissipating.  Though hating the limitations forced upon him by his instructor, Kisuke was starting to see that perhaps the age requirement wasn't quite so arbitrary; his spiritual power was still growing, after all, and it was possible that he simply didn't have enough to both produce and maintain anything stable.

 

Still, he wasn't planning on quitting now that he had managed to make some small progress.       

 

Pursing his lips, Kisuke held out his palm and closed his eyes.  _Come on… come on… All I need is a sphere.  Easy shape; it doesn't even have to be a perfect one.  We'll start small, the size of a walnut._ In his mind's eye, a small, black sphere materialized.  He saw himself jump, his body growing smaller as he approached, centered perfectly… He was going through, disappearing into the darkness, nothing left behind but the small sphere.

 

He felt it before he saw it with his own eyes; there was something hovering right above his skin, filling the quiet room with a gentle humming noise.  The pulse of energy was perfectly synchronized with his heartbeat.  Slowly cracking one eye open, Kisuke saw, at long last, the bright red sphere he had managed to produce.  He let out a short pant in disbelief, but quickly reigned in his emotions when the sphere wobbled.  He concentrated, forcing himself to relax again and empty his mind of all irrelevant thoughts.  The sphere stabilized, casting its brilliant crimson light against his face.  Biting his lip, Kisuke thought he might be pushing his luck if he tried to do more instead of work on maintaining and repeating the performance at a moment's notice, but the temptation was too strong to ignore.  The sphere was already a little larger than he'd aimed for, so why not test its limits?

 

He poured even more of his spirit force into the spell and watched, fascinated, as it expanded, very slowly but uniformly and—

 

The unexpected knock on the door made his heart jump.  The sphere contracted once, and Kisuke had only a second's notice that something bad was about to happen when he felt his palm grow hotter, no longer pleasantly warm but quickly turning uncomfortable.  Before he could react, the sphere expanded again and popped like a soap bubble, quite literally blowing up in his face.

 

"Lord Urahara?"

 

Kisuke didn't have to look into a mirror to know his face must now be an angry shade of red; the skin felt raw and tight, and he was pretty sure the acrid scent he could smell was that of burning hair.

 

There was a second knock on the door.  "Lord Urahara, are you in there?  Is everything alright?"

 

Sighing, Kisuke got up and trudged toward the door.  He found one of Lord Shihouin's personal guards standing outside, the man giving him a look of mixed worry and disparagement. 

 

"Yes?" Kisuke said.

 

"I… have been sent to escort you to Lord Shihouin's study," the man said.

 

Momentarily forgetting his state and his frustration at having been interrupted, Kisuke felt his stomach clenching unpleasantly at the sound of that.  _Lord Shihouin's study?_   He hadn't spoken with the man ever since their arrival at the castle more than six months ago, and he couldn't he see why he would in the near future.  Was he in some sort of trouble?  Had something happened to his mother?

 

The guard must have sensed his sudden distress, as his expression softened.  "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about.  Lord Shihouin merely wishes to spend the afternoon with you, if you are available."

 

"Whu…?"

 

"I'll… give you a few minutes to freshen up, shall I?  Assuming you are indeed available?"

 

"Yuh…"

 

Kisuke closed the door before any more warbling escaped his slack mouth, back pressed against the hard wood.  An afternoon spent with Lord Shihouin?  What possible reason could the man have for wanting to spend time with one of his councilwomen's children?  Was it perhaps a gathering of sorts, for him and his peers?  The guard hadn't mentioned anything about a private audience, after all, but Kisuke still couldn't quite see what he might ever discuss with Lord Shihouin, whether one-on-one or in a group.  No matter what the guard said, Kisuke had a bad feeling about this meeting, but soon realized that whatever the nature of this audience, he would not be making the situation any easier if he was tardy.

 

Thankfully, the redness and soot on his face nearly disappeared when he washed up, but there was little he could do about a stray lock of singed hair standing out by his ear.  Quickly tucking it in and out of sight, he changed his clothes and stepped outside, where the guard was waiting to escort him to the Lord's study.

 

The walk there seemed to take forever, as scenarios for what would happen next kept flashing in his mind, each more grim than the next.  He was fairly certain Lord Shihouin couldn't possibly know he had accidentally burned their ceiling (at least not yet) a few moment's ago, but he was long past the point of rationality when faced with the ornate, carved door leading to his destination.  The guard motioned at him to knock, then stood by the door, hand on his katana.

 

Kisuke did as instructed, trying –and failing- to calm his trembling limbs.  He heard Lord Shihouin's voice from inside, granting him entrance, and swallowing hard, he removed his shoes by the entryway and pushed the door open.

 

Lord Shihouin's study was as impressive as any other room Kisuke had visited in the estate.  It was spacious, its beige walls decorated with hanging tapestries and colorful fans.  It was an unusually warm day for October and the door to the porch was open wide, bringing in a gentle, summer-like breeze that carried the aromas of the garden outside. The left side of the room was dominated by an array of bookcases, Lord Shihouin's impressive personal collection of volumes and scrolls.  On the right side, Kisuke could see a beautiful shougi board laid out between two comfortable-looking crimson pillows.  The middle of the room held a low, lengthy table right behind which Lord Shihouin sat, an open roll of parchment spread before him; he appeared to be in the middle of writing a letter of some sort.

 

He looked up upon hearing the door close behind Kisuke, offering him a gracious smile.  "Ah, there you are, Kisuke.  Welcome," he said.

 

"My Lord Shihouin," Kisuke said, bowing deeply.

 

"Give me a moment, please," Lord Shihouin said, sprinkling some ash on his half-finished work and putting the roll of parchment aside.  He stood up, approaching Kisuke with his hands folded behind his back, a curious look glittering in his eyes.  "I am told you know how to play shougi.  Is this true?"

 

Kisuke tried not to let surprise show on his face.  _Shougi? **That's** what I'm here for?_  "Yes, my Lord.  One of my uncles taught me the rules," Kisuke said.  "We played a few times."

 

"What would you say to joining me for some afternoon tea and a game?"

 

The answer came before he could even register what was being asked; thought it was never explicitly pointed out to him, Kisuke understood instinctively that saying no to Lord Shihouin was not an option.  "Of course, my Lord."

 

Lord Shihouin gave him a knowing look, as though he understood exactly what Kisuke had just been thinking.  "You don't need to feel obligated to say yes, Kisuke," he said.  "I have enough men and women in my life who are paid handsomely to keep me happy.  If you're otherwise engaged or not feeling up for it, feel free to say so."

 

Kisuke knew Lord Shihouin meant what he said, but he was certain even the man himself knew it was futile; he couldn't think of a lot of people who would be familiar enough with such a powerful man to deny any of his requests, especially someone as young as Kisuke was.  Still, the option to opt out was appreciated, and more importantly, the idea of playing a game of shougi was not unappealing.  Most of the games he'd played in the past had tended to come to an abrupt end just when they had been getting interesting, his uncle upending the board and stalking off.  It didn't take a long time before any invitations to play stopped coming.  He didn't know what kind of player Lord Shihouin would turn out to be, but Kisuke had the distinct impression he was about to play opposite a master of the game.

 

"Honestly, my Lord, I would really welcome a chance to play against you," Kisuke said.

 

Lord Shihouin smiled at him and motioned toward the porch with his palm.  "Excellent.  Come then, we'll have some tea while I have the board moved outside," he said.  "It's too lovely a day to waste it behind four walls."

 

Before they had even left the room, Kisuke saw a servant hurrying along the porch, setting two plush pillows down on the floor for them.  A second one, a woman this time around, came forward with two steaming cups of tea and plate of fresh-smelling rice crackers.  By the time Kisuke took his seat, the refreshments had already been served.  "Thank you," Kisuke told the woman, cradling his cup.

 

She gave him a bow and approached Lord Shihouin next, who whispered a quick order at her and pointed inside the room, at the shougi table.  The woman bowed deeply once more and took her leave.  "Now, then…" Lord Shihouin said, taking a small, careful sip of tea.  "I don't think we've spoken in person since you arrived here, have we?"

 

"No, my Lord."

 

"Sir will do, Kisuke.  How have you been adjusting so far?"

 

"Very well, my— sir," Kisuke said, tentatively reaching for a cracker.  It was still warm to the touch and wonderfully crispy.  He was tempted to dunk it into the tea, but he didn't feel quite so comfortable in the Lord's presence to be very relaxed.  Hopefully, playing a game would help settle his nerves. 

 

"I have been monitoring your academic progress for a while now," Lord Shihouin began.  "It seems your tutors found you somewhat… perplexing for your first few months here.  Your scores in examinations were stellar, but your performance in class less so.  Not inadequate, but certainly not what one might expect, given the eloquence and sound thought process you display in your written assignments.  Are you certain there is nothing you wish to share with me?  Perhaps an issue with one or more of your classmates?"

 

By the time Lord Shihouin was done speaking, Kisuke was certain his fingers were about to break through the ceramic mug, given how tightly he was clutching it.  He suddenly felt so terribly naïve, for thinking he could have kept on lying and charming his way through his schooling without anyone ever taking notice.  What was startling, however, is that the lecture he had –deep down- one day expected hadn't come from his mother or his tutors themselves, but by the man before him.  His mother had cautioned him time and time again that living under the Shihouin roof meant mediocre work would not be tolerated; as such it was expected that Lord Shihouin might get regular updates on the progress of all the students in the estate, but the way he had phrased it made it sound as if he had taken a personal interest in him.  It was one thing to receive a generic report that he was doing well or poorly, and quite another to be given details. 

 

"N-no, sir," Kisuke managed to squeak out, hating his voice for sounding so meek and childish.  "It's just… Like you said… it's been an… adjustment.  I suppose I may have been a little homesick at first," he said, inventing wildly.  "But I haven't had any problems with any of my classmates; everyone has been very gracious so far."

 

"I am glad to hear that," Lord Shihouin said, the cold, calculating gaze he had adopted before giving way to a softer expression.  "At any rate, your irregular performance seems to be a thing of the past."

 

Though he never said more, Kisuke had the distinct impression Lord Shihouin was indirectly asking him for assurances that his petty little tricks would not be repeated in the future.  Ever.  "Yes.  Yes, of course," Kisuke said, immediately resolving to work harder from now on and stop relying so much on Yoruichi to get through subjects he didn't find challenging.  Or at least find better, more creative ways to quickly get through the slog of mundane work before he could concentrate on more interesting matters.     

 

"Your tutors tell me you now excel in every subject," Lord Shihouin said.  "Your intuitive grasp of kidou is especially impressive.  Even my daughter's understanding of the fundamentals has improved by your presence in class."

 

To say that Kisuke was grateful the conversation was taking a positive turn was an understatement.  For a while, he had been worried the invitation to shougi had only been a pretense to mask an evening spent with Lord Shihouin admonishing him for all his shortcomings in his calm, terrifying voice.  Thankfully, the man seemed to have moved on.  "To be fair, sir, _her_ presence in class has improved my hand-to-hand combat skills," Kisuke said, grinning.  He thought it best not to tell Lord Shihouin his previous skills had been practically non-existent.

 

The man laughed heartily at Kisuke's comment.  "Oh, I am certain of that," he said.  "I am pleased you two get along.  Some healthy competition, especially when it comes to academics, can do wonders for one's motivation.  A mutually beneficial relationship."

 

Glad though he was Lord Shihouin didn't disapprove of Kisuke's being close with his daughter, the turn of phrase didn't quite sit well with him.  It made their friendship sound more like a business transaction, whereas Kisuke had always thought of his improved skills as extra perks of being Yoruichi's friend, not the entire basis of the relationship.  Nevertheless, he wasn't about to admit that out loud and hoped his face didn't betray his true feelings as he said, "Yes, sir."

 

"Ah, there we go," Lord Shihouin said, shifting his attention toward the study, where two of his servants had just arrived.  "Over here, please," he said, pointing at the empty space between them.

 

The two men brought the shougi board outside with the utmost care, and Kisuke could see why: the board alone was a work of art.  The black lacquered body was covered with very intricate golden drawings of a maple tree casting its leaves.  The top was made of wood polished to perfection, and each individual piece had been carved and painted with equal care.  The pieces had already been set up for each side, and Kisuke was impressed to see they didn't move a hair's width in transition, not even when the board was settled between them.  Lord Shihouin thanked the two men who departed as quickly and discreetly as they had arrived.  "Black or white?" he asked Kisuke.

 

"I'll take black, sir," Kisuke said, thinking he might as well start the game on his own terms.

 

As they worked on their respective openings, the silence and familiarity of the game finally managed to put Kisuke at ease.  He suspected Lord Shihouin himself had something to do with this, as Kisuke could tell he was making a constant effort to keep his spiritual pressure as low as possible.  The game itself was the strongest catalyst, however.  Thinking of Lord Shihouin as simply another opponent had helped, though there was still the worry he would prove to be far too novice to uphold the Lord's interest.  The Mino castle defense he was currently setting up was more than enough to betray his inexperience, but it was still a move favored by more advanced players as well.

 

"Tell me," Lord Shihouin said after a long silence, moving his lance three squares forward.  "Do you remember the oath you and your mother swore the night you joined my house?"

 

"Of course, sir," Kisuke said, finding the question more than a little odd.

 

"You are a very clever young man; that I do know.  Articulate, well-read, imaginative and perceptive.  Wise beyond your years, some would call it.  But do you understand what that oath means?" Lord Shihouin asked, fixing him with his gaze.  "To serve someone forever?"

 

The compliment took him by surprise and also reinforced his previous suspicion that Lord Shihouin had showed an unusual amount of interest in his progress, for reasons unknown to Kisuke.  It was a heady feeling, to be praised by such a powerful man, and if Kisuke had felt the pressure to perform well before, he felt it twice as intensely right now.  "Well… The oath mentioned pledging one's gifts.  Isn't it about using my talents to further honor the Shihouin name?"

 

Lord Shihouin smiled.  "Wonderfully put," he said.  "I trust Ms. Fujiwara has been teaching you the history of our clan in your lessons?"

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"Tell me then, do you know why our clan is often referred to as the House of Godly Gears?"

 

It was becoming a little harder to follow both the game and the conversation, especially since Lord Shihouin's cryptic words kept spawning a dozen more questions in Kisuke's head with every sentence spoken.  He couldn't see what the man's train of thought was leading to, but at least the question was an easy one to answer.  "Because the Shihouin clan is said to be the eternal caretaker of artifacts bestowed upon them by the gods," Kisuke said.

 

Lord Shihouin let his hand hover over his bishop, arching an eyebrow at Kisuke.  "Your answer sounds like it was memorized from a textbook," he said, smiling wryly.

 

 _Well, the man is nothing if not astute_ , Kisuke thought, blushing deeply at his gaffe. 

 

With the game now apparently on hold, Lord Shihouin folded his hands and ignored the board completely.  "When I ask you a question, it's because I want to know what _you_ think, Kisuke."

 

"I…" Kisuke hesitated, staring at the board; this wasn't the type of situation where he could offer his opinion freely.  The only reason he had given such a standard response in the first place was that his true thoughts on the matter could very well land him in trouble.

 

"You don't have to feel ashamed if you think your answer might contradict what you've been taught," Lord Shihouin said.  "I assure you, I will not take offense in anything you might say."

 

Yet again, Kisuke understood that he was being given permission to act and say as he pleased.  This time he didn't dwell on whether Lord Shihouin meant it or not, but rather resigned himself to the fact that even if he did try to lie, the man was sharp enough to tell the difference.  Kisuke decided to do as he'd been told, trying to find the words to at least express his opinion in the most respectful manner possible.  "Well… Obviously the part about your clan being armorers is true.  It's the 'gods' part I'm not so keen on, sir."

 

"You mean the notion of a deity?"

 

"No, no, I mean the belief that the artifacts are _actually_ god-given," Kisuke said.

 

"I see.  Go on."

 

"It's… uhhh…" Kisuke began.  _A bunch of crap?  Absolutely impossible to prove or disprove?  Just a **touch** conceited? _  "It sounds to me more like… folklore.  Sir." 

 

Lord Shihouin laughed at the clear discomfort Kisuke had saying even this much.  "Would you not agree that there is often a figment of truth to be found in myths and legends?" he asked.

 

"No, of course I agree.  It's how myths get started in the first place, isn't it, sir?  As an explanation for something hard to believe or understand?"

 

Lord Shihouin nodded at him, his eyes conveying he was pleased by Kisuke's arguments so far, if not even a little impressed.  "So what do you think is the truth when it comes to my clan?"

 

"Well, I can think of two things," Kisuke said.  "The divine part is either about what I said, an explanation for an item so advanced that its creation is hard to explain, or 'handed down by the gods' is an allusion to something else.  Some _one_ else, actually."

 

Lord Shihouin smiled again, ever so slightly, his eyes regarding Kisuke with barely contained anticipation.  "And who might that 'someone else' be?"

 

"There's only one authority I can think of that's higher in the hierarchy than nobility.  The Royal Family."

 

It seemed Kisuke's answer was the one Lord Shihouin had hoped to hear, or at least one he could find no fault with.  He gave the boy a calculating gaze, as though he was considering how to proceed next.  "That's very—" he began, but before he could put his thoughts into words, they were interrupted by the distant sound of the dinner bell.  "Hmmm… that's too bad, it's already time for dinner."

 

Kisuke suppressed the urge to groan out loud when Lord Shihouin didn't finish his sentence.  He had the distinct feeling it had been done on purpose, as though to give him something to think about once he returned to his quarters, and the need to know was gnawing at him from within.  The most surprising realization, now that the evening had come to an end, was that it hadn't been entirely unpleasant.  Lord Shihouin did truly appear to be an open-minded man, though Kisuke had to admit he felt the conversation might have been vastly different if his opinion didn't happen to coincide with the older man's. 

 

"Perhaps we can leave the board as is," Lord Shihouin said.  "Continue at another time."

 

The confirmation that this evening hadn't been a one-time event, but something the Lord looked forward to repeating made Kisuke hopeful they would also be resuming the conversation that had been left unfinished.  And if nothing else, he could take pleasure in the knowledge that he would be improving his shougi skills with a more than competent adversary.  "I'd like that, sir," Kisuke said.

 

"So would I.  One more thing before you leave, Kisuke," Lord Shihouin said.  "Starting next week, you will be moved to an advanced kidou class.  I'm bringing in a new tutor for you and Yoruichi: a very highly-recommended academy graduate.  I trust you'll be able to cope with your new workload and find the time to play a game with me every now and then?"

 

If there was one thing that could have turned today from a merely interesting to a genuinely good day, it had just happened.  The promise that he was going to be working on something more challenging, alongside Yoruichi, no less, lifted his spirits immediately.  "Of course, sir," Kisuke said, getting up and bowing deeply.  "I'm very grateful for the opportunity."

 

"Are you talking about the kidou master or the shougi sessions?"

 

Kisuke grinned at that.  "Both, sir."

 

Lord Shihouin returned the smile warmly.  "Off you go, then.  Enjoy your dinner."

 

"You, too, sir.  I'll take my leave," Kisuke said, bowing once more, making his way across the room and out the door.

 

* * *

 

 

**OCTOBER 26 TH, 240 B.H.I., SHIHOUIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS **

 

With a sprint and dive, she took shelter under the table, coming out of a neat roll onto her knees, weapon drawn.  Her heart was racing, blood pounding in her ears, as she struggled to catch her breath.  She couldn't even tell how long she'd been running non-stop once she'd been left alone, bereft of any support.  Survival instincts had taken over then, urging her to push forward, to reach her goal, no matter the cost.  Recklessness hadn't been an option, but neither had time.  She couldn't afford to stop and think, to come up with a better strategy.  The moment she stopped moving was the moment she would die.  Even this safe haven was only a temporary resting place; she would only allow herself a brief pause before she had to get moving again.

 

Closing her eyes, she took a long, deep breath in through the nose, exhaling slowly.  She repeated the action, again and again, until she could regain some measure of control over herself.  The calm, peaceful image projected in her mind's eye had helped tremendously: she could picture herself smiling at the horizon, breathing in the brackish scent of the sea, feeling the wind in her hai—

 

"Okay, so… when I suggested we play pirates, this wasn't exactly what I meant."

 

Yoruichi let out a groan, crawling out from under the table and glaring at the owner of the offending voice.  "Dammit, Kisuke, I was having a _moment_!"

 

"Oh, I'm sorry!  Did my protest for my _lack_ of participation in our _joint_ game ruin _your_ fun?"

 

Sighing, Yoruichi stood up to her feet and wiped the dust off the brown cotton breeches and white shirt she was wearing.  She adjusted the mutilated pillowcase that served as her pirate bandana and approached Kisuke, wakizashi in hand.

 

It had been over three hours ago that he'd showed up to her apartment for their scheduled Kidou lesson.  As they'd waited for their new instructor, speculating on what they might be like or what material they were going to cover, Ms. Fujiwara had shown up to inform them that their lesson was going to be delayed for a few hours.  She had given no explanation as to why, not even when directly asked.  Normally, this would have been excellent news, but given the torrential rain that had been pelting Soul Society all day, they'd had no choice but to stay indoors, where their options were severely limited.  Before leaving Yoruichi's quarters, Ms. Fujiwara had suggested they use the spare time to catch up on their homework.  Kisuke and Yoruichi had been courteous enough to wait until she was well out of earshot before they burst into laughter.  

 

At first, their enthusiasm over the prospect of a couple of lesson-free hours had been abundant.  However, as they brainstormed over what they should occupy themselves with and saw their list of preferred games dwindling to nothing, all excitement had suddenly flown out the window.  They'd spent nearly half an hour sprawled over Yoruichi's pillows in the study, staring at the grey, rainy sky outside forlornly.  Bored out of her mind, Yoruichi had only half-heartedly suggested they play one of her favorite games: explorers.  The only problem was that they'd already covered every inch of her apartment in past games and there wasn't really anything new to 'explore.'  Still, it was better than nothing, and they'd started by pitching their make-believe tent, using one of Yoruichi's blankets.

 

It was then that inspiration struck Kisuke, and he proposed they build the biggest tent they could make.  Five blankets, six kimonos and seven sheets later, Yoruichi's room was near-unrecognizable.  The blanket tent was no longer much of a tent, but more like a blanket fortress, covering almost half of the living room area.  The only question was what they were going to use it for.  Knights?  Lack of proper attire and weaponry: the only available sword of any kind in Yoruichi's room was a ceremonial wakizashi.  Invaders?  Fun enough, but what _kind_ of invaders?  Pirates?

 

Yoruichi's eyes had shone with excitement at the idea.  Being a citizen of Soul Society meant that the only experience she had with the sea was through textbooks.  There were no seas in their world; those were the distinct privilege of the living, but the notion had always fascinated Yoruichi.  A giant, saltwater lake that went on for hundreds of miles in each direction?  She couldn't even picture it as a visual, let alone imagine what it might smell or taste like.  The 'brackish scent' turn of phrase was something she'd picked up from a human novel, and she had no idea what it actually meant, only that it was supposedly an apt description of what the sea smelled like. 

 

Overcome with ideas for their game, Yoruichi had insisted they _had_ to get it right, and that meant proper costumes and a solid background story.  The breeches and shirts were Kisuke's; he'd worn them so rarely as a younger child that he had almost forgotten he'd owned them, and while they were a little snug, they did fit.  They'd scoured her own closet as well, looking for anything they could use in their elaborate game.  With their costumes ready and their backstory developed, they had set about playing their newly conceived game.  Yoruichi had been having the time of her life, up until Kisuke had so rudely interrupted her inner monologue with his complaints.

 

"What is it, then?" she said, coming to a stop in front of him.

 

"Like I said," he repeated.  "When I suggested we play pirates, this wasn't what I meant."

 

"I am a pirate," Yoruichi said, indicating her attire.  All right, so perhaps the wakizashi wasn't culturally appropriate, but it was the only weapon they had, so it would have to do.  "And I'm taking over a fort.  What's confusing you?"

 

Standing with his back pressed against the stone pillar in the middle of the room, arms tied around it, Kisuke glared at her.  "I'm dressed in your mother's kimono.  Wearing lip stain.  Doesn't scream pirate to me."

 

Yoruichi rolled her eyes, sighing.  It was exhausting, having to do all of the serious work in the acting portion of their game.  All he'd had to do was stay quiet for a few minutes until she made her grand entrance, and he had to go and ruin it by being impatient.  "You _said_ one of us should be the dunder," she said.

 

"Damsel."

 

"Yes, that.  Whatever.  The prisoner."

 

"……I had different casting in mind."

 

When they'd been raiding her closet for an outfit they could use in their game, they'd had a laugh as they took it in turns to model her mother's kimonos.  They were all exquisite, worn only once in the past from one of her mother's female ancestors, and were meant to be worn by Yoruichi herself on her coming-of-age day as per the tradition in her mother's family.  The soft, slate grey one embroidered with cherry blossoms had always been Yoruichi's favorite, but her mother insisted it didn't work with her coloring.  It did work with Kisuke's, however, and since one of them was going to end up in a kimono, she'd figured it might as well be him. 

 

Being a big baby about it, he had protested when she tied him up against the stone pillar and put a few finishing touches on the damsel in question, but really, he was pulling it off beautifully.  With his naturally pale skin and red-tinted lips, hair pulled up in a bun, he was the perfect picture of a lady.  Admittedly, the bun was a bit of a disaster since he didn't have long enough hair for it, so it was more of a messy ponytail, but the rest of the visual was great.  He looked prettier than most of the girls in court, in fact, and she'd made sure to tell him as much.

 

But of course, he was still displeased, even after all her hard work, because he'd obviously assumed _he_ would get to play the part of the pirate.  Yoruichi glared at him, taking a few steps closer until their faces were nearly an inch apart.  "Oh?  Are you saying I should've been the prisoner because I'm a _girl_?"

 

Some of Kisuke's anger seemed to dissipate at her question, only to be replaced by uneasiness.  "Well… Damsel _literally_ means young girl," he said.  "I couldn't _physically_ be a damsel if I wanted to."

 

Narrowing her eyes, Yoruichi let her sword arm slip between them, a smirk on her lips.  "That can be arranged."

 

"Okay, OKAY!" Kisuke hurried to say, eyes bulging, pushing his body as far back as it would go from her.  "I'll be the damsel!"

 

"Because…?"

 

He let out a sigh.  "Because you're stronger," he said in monotone.

 

"And?"

 

Turning away from her, a deep blush setting on his cheeks, he murmured, "And I look prettier in this kimono."

 

"Good," Yoruichi said, resting her weapon on her shoulder and giving him a toothy grin.  "Now be a good damsel and cry for help."

 

The blush spreading to the rest of his face, Kisuke looked up at her again.  "I will not," he said, his jaw set.

 

"You just said you'd be the damsel."

 

"And I would prefer to be the silent, stoic type.  Resigned to my fate and all that."

 

"That's not what we agreed!"

 

"I didn't agree to _any_ of this!"

 

"You weren't complaining when I was making you up!"

 

"YOU PUT A SOCK IN MY MOUTH!"

 

Yoruichi was nearing the limit to her patience.  This was easily one of the best ideas for an indoors game they'd ever had, and it was quickly getting derailed for something as ridiculous as casting.  Her nostrils flaring, she held her wakizashi out right under Kisuke's chin.  "PIRATE LORD YORUICHI GROWS IMPATIENT OF YOUR PRATTLING!"

 

Pursing his lips and closing his eyes, Kisuke took in a deep breath, as though steeling himself for something particularly unpleasant.  When he opened his eyes again, he was still glaring at her, but at the same time, he appeared to have _finally_ decided to go with the flow of the game.  "OKAY, _FINE_ ," he growled at her.  "HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!"

 

It was at that precise moment that the door of Yoruichi's apartment was wrenched open, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps.  Both Kisuke and Yoruichi turned towards the noise in unison, but their vision of the door was blocked by the blanket fort they'd built around the living room.

 

"Huh.  That usually never works," Kisuke muttered.

 

A slim hand slipped in through a slit between two blankets, and as they were pulled apart, Yoruichi and Kisuke were greeted by the sight of Ms. Fujiwara, her eyes wide and fearful.  Behind her, a tall, muscular young man was holding his hand out, a lethal-looking sphere of blue energy hovering over his palm.  Ms. Fujiwara looked as though she was about to say something, but when she took in the scene, her eyes became even wider, if such a thing was possible, her jaw falling slack.  The tall man arched an eyebrow at the sight, then flicked his wrist once and the sphere of energy evaporated with a soft hiss.

 

It occurred to Yoruichi that perhaps holding Kisuke at sword-point wasn't the best of ideas at the moment, and she lowered her arm instantly. 

 

"So… which one of you is Princess Yoruichi?" the tall man asked.

 

Without even pausing to think, Yoruichi pointed at Kisuke. 

 

"I AM NOT."

 

Ms. Fujiwara closed her mouth, glaring at the man in disapproval, then at Yoruichi, before her eyes settled on Kisuke and her expression turned to a mixture of despair and disbelief.  "I-is that… Lady Shihouin's ceremonial kimono?" she said faintly.

 

"Doesn't it _totally_ match his eyes?"

 

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Ms. Fujiwara let out a long-drawn sigh.  "Kisuke, I expected better of you."

 

"My hands are tied!" he said, wriggling his fingers.  " _Literally_!"

 

"Enough," Ms. Fujiwara said, holding up one palm.  "This is what is going to happen: Instructor Tsukabishi and I will be taking a short walk around the gardens.  In fifteen minutes, when we shall return, this room is going to be back to normal, and the two of you will be _properly_ dressed and ready to begin your lesson.  Do I make myself clear?" she said, her voice sharp and unwavering.  It was the tone she always used when one of her students misbehaved, and with good reason; it was as extremely effective tool of intimidation.

 

 _So much for the pirate adventure,_ Yoruichi thought, frowning.  Still, this was no time to protest.  Ms. Fujiwara was not to be taken lightly when the vein in her temple was throbbing as much as it was right now.  Yoruichi nodded, eyes downcast, and mumbled, "Yes, Ms. Fujiwara," almost in tandem with Kisuke.

 

Once the two adults left the room, Yoruichi helped Kisuke out of his bindings.  "So… next time maybe we _both_ play pirates?" she suggested, as he stood across her, rubbing his sore wrists.

 

" _Yes, please_ ," Kisuke said, yanking the hairtie that was holding his bun up and running the back of his palm over his lips.  "All right, we'd better get to it," he said, looking a little sad at the prospect of taking down the beautiful fort they'd spent so long building.

 

It was truly incredible what one could get accomplished in fifteen minutes under the threat of detention.  Ms. Fujiwara hadn't actually uttered the word, but neither Kisuke nor Yoruichi were under any delusions about what would happen should they fail to follow her instructions.  Within twelve minutes, they had both changed back to their everyday kimonos, and the materials making up their fort had been stripped down and stuffed back into Yoruichi's chests and drawers haphazardly.  Kisuke had promised to stay behind and help her fold them properly after the lesson.  The remaining three minutes were spent with Kisuke struggling to remove all vestiges of his crimson lip stain, as Yoruichi held up a hand mirror and tried not to cackle… too loudly.  Eventually, she decided to stop torturing him and took over, grabbing hold on his chin and wiping the lip stain off with a piece of cloth dipped in unscented oil. 

 

"Done," she said, tossing the used cloth on the vanity.  "Completely make-up free now.  Back to your _manly_ self."

 

Kisuke gave her an only half-hearted glare and stepped out of her bedroom, making his way over to the study.  As they took their seats by her desk, he still looked a little bitter about the elaborate prank she had pulled on him, but he did admit that it wasn't fair for him to expect her to play the less action-packed roles in their games. 

 

"I never actually said you can't do the saving," Kisuke said, dipping his hand into the small bowl of sweets on the desk.  "I'd just prefer to be wearing my own clothes when that happens," he said, tossing the piece of candy over to her.

 

Yoruichi caught it in her mouth and rolled it around her tongue a couple of times before speaking.  "Fine, fine, whatever.  That's four," she said, reaching into the bowl next and tossing a sweet at him.

 

Kisuke dove to the left just as the door opened once more.  The sudden noise seemed to startle him for just a fraction of a moment, and the piece of candy bounced against his cheek, falling onto the floor.

 

"Four to three," Yoruichi whispered at him, holding one hand up into a victory sign.

 

"That doesn't count!" Kisuke whispered back.  "I was distr—"

 

"Well, well, I see you took my words to heart," Ms. Fujiwara said, her eyes sweeping the room carefully as she entered.  The man who had been accompanying her before stepped inside behind her.

 

Yoruichi and Kisuke stood up in front of the desk, both staring at the newcomer curiously.  Given the circumstances before, Yoruichi hadn't had a chance to observe the man who was going to be their instructor.  The first thing one noticed about the dark-haired man, was that he was extremely tall.  Though his face was quite youthful-looking, his body was solidly built, which was probably why she had first mistaken him for an adult.  Upon closer examination, she realized that their future instructor was likely underage.  Her first reaction to that realization was surprise that her father would ever even consider someone so young for the position.  She had to admit, the overall effect of his unexpected age and striking presence left her a little intimidated.  There was a sharp, intelligent pair of dark brown eyes peering down at her behind the spectacles he wore.

 

"Children, I'd like you to meet Tsukabishi Tessai," Ms. Fujiwara said, motioning at the man with her hand.  "He graduated from the Shin'ou Academy just this April with honors, and has already been accepted into the Kidou Corps."

 

"I thought there was an age restriction for entering the Kidou Corps," Kisuke said, eyeing their instructor with interest.

 

"That would be Urahara Kisuke," Ms. Fujiwara told Instructor Tsukabishi.  "A _normally_ well-manner boy who seems to have forgotten himself."

 

Kisuke's shoulders tensed up for a split second, before he bent into a bow.  "My apologies, Instructor Tsukabishi, Ms. Fujiwara.  Very pleased to meet you, Instructor," he said.

 

"No apology needed, Lord Urahara," the instructor said in his deep, baritone voice, giving him a curt bow.  

 

"And this is Princess Shihouin Yoruichi," Ms. Fujiwara said, pointing at Yoruichi next.

 

Yoruichi watched as the instructor dipped into a low bow, his long, straight ponytail swinging to the side.  "I am honored to make your acquaintance, Princess Yoruichi," he said.

 

"Likewise, instructor," she said, giving him a nod.

 

"I'll leave you to it, then.  Have a good first lesson," Ms. Fujiwara said, then sauntered over to the door, closing it behind her.

 

The departure was followed by a moment of ringing silence, all three of them sizing up one another.  Instructor Tsukabishi was the first to break the cycle, clearing his throat and motioning toward Yoruichi's desk.  "Shall we?" he said.  "I was told by Ms. Fujiwara that there would be tea served soon, so we can take a few moments to get better acquainted before we begin our lesson."

 

Kisuke and Yoruichi followed him, sitting on either side of the desk while the instructor took the seat at the head.  As he repeated the personal information Ms. Fujiwara had already shared, also revealing that he was, in fact, only one hundred and sixty seven, a servant entered Yoruichi's quarters, serving them all tea and leaving behind a plate of red bean filled manju.

 

"… so I will be spending a few years in Lord Shihouin's service," Instructor Tsukabishi said.  "Until I have reached my two hundredth year of age.  You were right," he added, turning to Kisuke.  "There _is_ an age restriction for actual attendance, but acceptance into the corps can be granted earlier, in cases where the candidate either applies early or is scouted."

 

There was something to the story that wasn't quite ringing true to Yoruichi.  If Kisuke said there was an age restriction to enter the Kidou Corps then it must be true, but would such a talented man honestly spend the next thirty odd years in her father's service, teaching two complete novices?  It was a complete waste of his most productive years.  Yoruichi knew her father well enough; he liked to be surrounded by the best and brightest, but it wasn't for reasons of vanity alone.  Every outsider invited into their home and pledged to serve their house was, in one way or another, a useful asset for her father's many affairs and ventures.  Normally, all Kidou masters scouted by her father's associates were assigned to work at the Shihouin Vault, where all the family inventions were built and tested.  Why would he recruit such a man, only to lose him in a few decades to the Kidou Corps? 

 

Yoruichi shared a furtive look with Kisuke as the instructor finished his story.  She couldn't tell what he was frowning about exactly, but if she had to guess, she'd say they were thinking along the same lines.  He raised his eyebrows at her and Yoruichi gave him a discreet nod.  They had to find out, one way or another.

 

"Now then," Instructor Tsukabishi said.  "Your previous master, Instructor Matou, gave me detailed reports on your progress so far.  He spoke very highly of you both, especially noting Lord Urahara's creativity and your impeccable control of spirit particles, Princess Yoruichi," he said.  "As such, I expect to see great things from you two, but let me be clear up front: natural talent will only take you so far.  My lessons will be challenging and unless you work hard, you _will_ fall behind sooner or later.  Understood?"

 

"Yes, Instructor," they both said in unison.

 

"Very well.  Let us—"        

 

"Instructor Tsukabishi?" Kisuke said, a little timidly.

 

_Ooooh, he's using the goody-two-shoes voice.  Excellent._

 

"I apologize for the interruption," Kisuke went on, bringing in the doe eyes for good measure.  "May I ask a question before we proceed?"

 

"Of course, Lord Urahara."

 

"Well, you see, my mother is a councilwoman to Lord Shihouin," Kisuke began.  "She was recruited, much like you were, only a few months ago.  At our welcoming ceremony, she was asked to pledge her loyalty to House Shihouin and take her vows.  Was it the same for you?"

 

"More or less," the instructor said.  "Why do you ask?"

 

"It's just that… I was under the impression that oath was for life," Kisuke said.  "You said you were going to join the Kidou Corps in thirty three years, but their rulebook strictly forbids contact with the Thirteen Divisions or any other Soul Society organization unless authorized by Central 46, so wouldn't that essentially amount to dereliction of your duties to your Lord?"

 

Instructor Tsukabishi looked more than a little taken aback at Kisuke's words.  Yoruichi didn't know if he was more impressed by the observation, the choice of words, or the fact that he had read the Kidou Corps rulebook.  Probably a bit of all three.  "Er, well…" he said, suddenly looking his age as a glimmer of anxiety flitted in his eyes.  "Special exceptions have always been made for House Shihouin; that is no secret."   

 

It was the perfect moment to enter the fray.  Once Kisuke had managed to make him a little flustered, his reaction to a direct question should tell them more than enough.  "So you'll keep working at the Vault after your official induction, instructor?"  Yoruichi asked.

 

"Ye—  Hold on, I never said I would be—" the instructor said, now looking positively alarmed.  He closed his mouth, clearing his throat loudly and assumed a dignified expression.  "I think we should be getting back to—" 

 

"Oh?  I thought that's what you were recruited for in the first place, sir," Kisuke said.  "I mean… none of our other instructors graduated from the academy that young, nor did any of them immediately receive offers to become seated officers of a division."

 

"How do you—?  Whoever said anything about a seated—?"

 

"But you'd have to be, wouldn't you, instructor?" Yoruichi piled on.  "Normally, academy graduates are assigned to a division after application, so…"

 

"…If you were _scouted_ , wouldn't that mean you were likely to be presented with an officer's position?" Kisuke finished for her.

 

Instructor Tsukabishi stared at them both over the rim of his glasses, his jaw set.  "I never said I was scouted," he said.  His voice had returned back to its normal calm and authoritative tone, but Yoruichi was pleased to see there were a few beads of sweat shining under his hairline.  They'd gotten to him, which meant that her intuition had been right: their new instructor was hiding something.

 

"My apologies, I simply assumed as much, instructor," Kisuke said, turning back on the beatific teacher's pet charm. 

 

"Yes, well… If we could get back to the matter at hand," Instructor Tsukabishi said, pushing his glasses up his nose.  "Today, we are going to be—"

 

"But wait, instructor—" Yoruichi began.

 

"All right, this has gone on long enough," the instructor said, setting down his teacup with a thud.  "I do not know what kind of stunt you're trying to pull here, but it stops now.  No more questions that do not pertain to the material we shall cover in class," he said, glancing to each of them in turn as he spoke.  

 

"Well… Technically, since we haven't had a lesson yet," Kisuke said. "And thus have no frame of reference for what our material might be, isn't _every_ topic relevant?  Philosophically speaking."

 

Instructor Tsukabishi suddenly looked as though he would much rather be anywhere else in the world but in this room.  Rubbing his right temple with a pair of fingers, he fell silent, possibly considering how to proceed next.  After a minute or so of quiet contemplation, he stood up, turning to Yoruichi.  "Princess Yoruichi, may I use your restroom, please?" he asked.

 

"Of course, sir," Yoruichi said, pointing at the door right by her bedroom.

 

"When I return, we will begin our lesson and there will be no more chicanery.  Is that clear?"  Instructor Tsukabishi said, a tone of finality in his voice. 

 

As fun as it had been, trying to get a reaction out of him, Yoruichi sensed that it wouldn't be prudent to push him any further today.  "Yes, instructor," she said, Kisuke nodding alongside her.  She waited until the older man disappeared behind the restroom door, before letting out a snort and turning to Kisuke.  "I think you broke him with that last one," she said.  Through the closed door, she could hear the sound of splashing water.  It wasn't a stretch to picture their instructor was having a quick wash to cool down.  

 

Kisuke let out a chuckle.  "Enough for today?" he asked, apparently in agreement with her.

 

"Yeaaaah, we don't wanna take it too far," she said.  "Besides, it's not like we learned much of anything."

 

"True enough.  So… thoughts?" he asked, folding his arms on the desk.

 

"Well… Father _has_ been recruiting a lot of Kidou masters lately," Yoruichi said, resting her chin on her balled fist.  "Normally, there's only, like, twenty researchers working down at the Vault.  There must be close to _thirty_ right now."

 

"Hmmm…."

 

"Hey, isn't your mom a pretty good Kidou user?" Yoruichi asked, a thought occurring to her.

 

"Everyone always said so," Kisuke said, shrugging.  "I haven't actually seen her perform anything too complicated, but she's very knowledgeable when it comes to the theory.  Why?"

 

"When your mom was offered a position here, I remember people were talking about it," she explained.  After Councilman Ito's death, she recalled the estate had been abuzz with predictions over the candidates for weeks.  Kisuke's mother's name hadn't come up until the last few days before the official invite, and in the few times it had, it wasn't associated with her father's council.  "Mostly because they were surprised she was given a seat on the council; everyone thought she was being recruited as a researcher because of her Kidou skills."

 

"Huh… I didn't know that," Kisuke said, forehead creasing at the new piece of information.  "Not sure how it could be related, though, since she didn't end up getting assigned to the Vault.  I guess we don't have much to work with, do we?  Just that your father is recruiting more kidou practitioners.  If it's not for research, it would have to be a big project, something that requires a lot of combined spiritual power.  Maybe that's why—"

 

Yoruichi cut him off abruptly, giving him a sharp nudge with her elbow as the restroom door opened, and Instructor Tsukabishi reemerged, looking considerably more held together than he had before.  He made his way back to the desk, looking at them both with a mixture of determination and wariness.

 

"Now, then," he said, arms crossed in front of his wide chest.  "Shall we begin?"     

 

 

* * *

 

 

**DECEMBER 31 ST, 240 B.H.I., SHIHOUIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS **

 

 

"Lovely strokes, Tomiko," Ms. Fujiwara said, as she sauntered over the desks of her students, observing and critiquing their work.

 

Kisuke grimaced at the mess of ink on his tanzaku.  The beautiful, delicate piece of paper made his questionable penmanship look even worse in comparison.

 

"Remember, children," Ms. Fujiwara said, coming to a stop one desk away from Kisuke.  "The Founding Day of the Shihouin clan is an important celebration.  Just because you get a break from your studies doesn't mean you don't have to try your best.  I expect to see the results of your calligraphy lessons here today.  If you feel your work has been unsatisfactory, please choose a new tanzaku and start over."

 

Looking at the small pile of already ruined tanzaku on his desk, Kisuke let out a sigh.  Barely ten o' clock in the morning and this was already shaping up to be an awful day.  Grumbling, he turned back to his work, trying to gauge if it was salvageable in any way, when he heard footsteps behind him.  His shoulders tensed up and he readied himself for a lecture from Ms. Fujiwara.  He held his breath as she bent down next to his workspace to peer at his latest attempt, looking at the mutilated tanzaku over the rim of her spectacles. 

 

Her lips curled, nose scrunching up, but she had no comment for him.  Instead, she cast a quick look at the rest of the class and then turned to him.  "Where is she?" 

 

There was no need to ask who 'she' was; Yoruichi hadn't shown up for class this morning.  Though she more than often made her opinion clear when it came to work she found unnecessary, it was uncharacteristic of her to skip lessons.  If she was feeling ill or was otherwise indisposed, Ms. Fujiwara would have certainly been informed.  Kisuke had noticed Yoruichi had been acting strangely for days now, but hadn't pressed her for an explanation.  He had asked once or twice, but she'd simply said she was feeling a little under the weather and that it was nothing to worry about.  It hadn't been a very convincing lie, but he'd figured she would tell him the truth when she felt ready.

 

"I don't know," Kisuke whispered to Ms. Fujiwara.

 

"You're not lying, are you, Kisuke?"

 

"No, ma'am," he said, shaking his head.  "I honestly don't know."

 

Ms. Fujiwara removed her spectacles and pinched the bridge of her nose, taking in a deep, calming breath.  It looked like she wasn't having a particularly good day, herself. 

 

The celebration of the Shihouin clan's founding day was, in many ways, the most important event of the year in the castle.  It was a holiday meant to commemorate the end of hostilities between the once warring branches of the family.  Centuries ago, on the night of December 31st, the four brothers had put aside their former rivalry and became a united front, changing the family name to its current version, their new crest reflecting their reconciliation; four maple leaves and a crescent moon to symbolize a new beginning.  Kisuke had known of the story even before hearing the details in Ms. Fujiwara's history lesson a week ago.  As a minor retainer of the Shihouins, the Urahara clan had been one of the many similar families expected to pay their respects on this day and renew their pledge of fealty to the de facto regional Lords.  For most of the northwest of the Court of Pure Souls, this was a day filled with pageantry and intense competition between the minor clans to get in the Lord's good favors through lavish gifts.

 

Having now witnessed the preparations from the other side, Kisuke could see that the castle staff was under an equal, if not greater, amount of pressure.  Ms. Fujiwara's part, although small, was important enough to merit her rising panic levels.  Aside from trying to herd a group of children too distracted by the day's excitement to bother with calligraphy, she was in charge of tutoring Yoruichi for the short dance she was meant to perform for the opening of the ceremony.  Yoruichi hadn't needed a lot of help before she had the dance down perfectly, but today was meant to be her second and final dress rehearsal.  And she was nowhere to be found. 

 

Despite her strictness, Ms. Fujiwara had been kind and fair to him from day one, which made Kisuke inclined to help her out.  He had a good idea of where Yoruichi was hiding, and he had half a mind to tell Ms. Fujiwara he would gladly go look for her, when he realized this was a golden opportunity to help himself out, too. He felt a little guilty for taking advantage of the long-suffering teacher, but then he remembered how much he loathed calligraphy and all traces of guilt effectively vanished.

 

"Don't worry, Ms. Fujiwara," he whispered to her.  "If Lady Yoruichi doesn't show up, I can forge a tanzaku to replace hers.  And Miss Nakahara can take her place for the dance, can't she?"

 

The teacher's face went chalk white within nanoseconds.  Kisuke was certain she was contemplating which part was worse; his hideous handwriting on _two_ tanzaku instead of one, or Ran Nakahara's tendency to freeze when she forgot or missed a step.  

 

"Oh, give that here," Ms. Fujiwara said suddenly, yanking the tanzaku right out of Kisuke's hands.  "I'll write both your wishes, just _find_ her, please," she hissed at him.

 

 _Wow, Ι thought it was going to take longer than that,_ Kisuke thought, trying to stifle a grin that was threatening to make its appearance.  "Yes, ma'am," he said, and shot up out of his seat and over to the door.  As he closed it behind him, he could hear the groans and shouts of protest from his classmates.

 

"Not fair!"

 

"Why does _he_ get to leave?"

 

Kisuke sped down the hallway, a spring to his step, mentally congratulating himself on a plan well-executed.  Zig-zagging through the many servants putting the finishing touches in the estate's decoration, he made it to the broad stone staircase at the entrance. 

 

It was a crisp morning, not quite as cold as the past month had been, but there was enough of a draft to make Kisuke wrap his woolen haori around him a little more tightly as he trotted down the stairs.  The last few remnants of snow had melted away, but he still took his time down the pathway leading to the shrine, wary of sleet.  Just a week ago, Yoruichi had laughed herself silly when he'd tried to show off his balancing skills in the courtyard, only to find himself with his face planted on the ground after a slip.  As he neared the end of the path, he craned his neck toward the bare maple tree by the entrance of the shrine and found his suspicions of Yoruichi's whereabouts confirmed.  It was their favorite tree in the castle after all, far enough from the estate to stay away from prying eyes and high enough to offer a more than decent view of the rest of the Court of Pure Souls below.

 

Still, as far as hiding places went, it wasn't ideal.  The naked branches didn't offer much in terms of cover this time of the year and anyone determined to find her wouldn't have had much of an issue.  It was an odd choice for a girl who'd once stayed hidden within a suit of armor for hours, waiting for the opportune moment to scare passers-by (namely him) with the disembodied voice of a 'displeased ancestor.'   Even more worrying was the fact that she didn't seem to notice anyone approaching.  Kisuke came to a stop beneath the tree, looking up at her.  The melancholy expression she'd been wearing for days was even more pronounced today as she sat upon a thick branch, her eyes gazing at the distance forlornly. 

 

Kisuke frowned at the sight of her, then set about climbing up the tree.  He didn't know whether Yoruichi had pretended not to see him so far, hoping he would leave, or if she truly was that deeply drawn into her own thoughts, but she turned to look at him as he reached the top, her face clouding.

 

"Aren't you supposed to be in class?" she said, turning her attention back to the landscape.

 

Kisuke decided not to dwell on the cold welcome and settled himself a foot away from her.  He cleared his throat, breaking into a rather decent –if he said so himself- imitation of Ms. Fujiwara, clipped t's and all.  "Princess Yoruichi's absence has been duly noted."

 

It didn't have the usual effect; Yoruichi simply rolled her eyes and let out an annoyed sigh.  "Go away, Kisuke."

 

Seeing that his regular go-to solution of cheering her up wasn't likely to work, he chose to go for earnestness next.  "Hey, if it's something serious—" he said, scooting closer to her on the branch.

 

"It's not, so just leave me alone!"

 

The sudden harshness in her voice took him by surprise.  Though she wasn't the type of person to mince her words, Yoruichi was never truly hostile unless she had very good reason to be.  Kisuke found himself at a loss of what to do next and a little hurt by her abruptness.  It was obvious that she was seriously troubled by something and while being left alone to deal with it was her wish, he couldn't find it in his heart to abandon her when she clearly needed someone to talk to.  It occurred to him that perhaps the problem was that she didn't want to talk to _him_.

 

"Was it… was it something I did?" he asked, not quite meeting her eyes.  _Please say no, please say no.  I don't want us to have a fight; what if it's terrible and she doesn't want to talk to me anymore?  Did I do something wrong?  I don't think I did, I haven't lied to her since then and when I said the other day that she should work on her arithmetic I didn't mean she was stupid –I **didn't**! **I DIDN'T**!- because she's not, she's amazing and I was going to help her anyway, I wasn't suggesting she do it alone, but what if she thought I did, what if she was offended –You just can't keep your mouth shut, can you- and now she hates me, like Kazuo and Miki, but I never cared about them, they were mean and cruel and she's not, she's funny and smart and brave and kind, and she's never scared of anything, not even when I say weird things and she **can't** stop being my friend, I'll grovel if I have to. _  "If… if it is…" he went on.  "I swear, I'll make it up to you."

 

The tension in Yoruichi's shoulders eased up at the sound of that, prompting him to make a cautious attempt at eye-contact again.  Her expression had softened, switching from anger back to misery again.  "I'm sorry," she said, and the apology looked and sounded genuine.  "It's nothing you did, I just… I can't tell you."

 

Kisuke felt the panic rising up his throat slowly back off; she wasn't mad at him, after all, it was something irrelevant.  Feeling more relieved than he'd ever been in his entire life and bolstered by her apology, Kisuke inched a little closer, now determined to make her feel better if he had to spend all day up in this tree, freezing.  "Why not?"

 

"Because you'll think I'm stupid and spoiled," Yoruichi said, looking down at her knees.

 

"I would never think that."

 

"Yes, you would."

 

"Try me."

 

Yoruichi let out a sigh, eyes on the white clouds in the sky.  She was silent for a long time, but Kisuke didn't pry any harder, letting her gather up the courage to say whatever it was she was so ashamed of.  A few times she opened her mouth, but seemed to think better of it and would purse her lips, frowning and diving back into her thoughts again.  At long last, with her head hung and her legs swinging nervously, she spoke.  "It's… Well… It's my birthday tonight.  After midnight."

 

Kisuke wasn't sure what he had expected to hear, but it certainly wasn't _this_.  "Oh," he said, not really knowing what else there was to say to this piece of information.  The statistical improbability alone was too dizzying to contemplate.  "I didn't know what."

 

"And… you know…" Yoruichi began, suddenly looking both apologetic and frustrated at once.  "It's not like I'd ask for anything big.  But today is never _my_ birthday, it's the _clan's_ founding day and I only get, like… a treat and a mention, _sometimes,_ but that's it.  And I know it's more than other kids have, I _know_ that, it's just… It would be nice to have a whole day to celebrate, but...  Everyone always forgets.  Or doesn't care."

 

Having known Yoruichi for nearly a year now, Kisuke could fully appreciate the fact that what she'd just shared with him had not been an easy confession to make.  Yoruichi had been taught to reject weakness, or whatever was perceived as weakness, since she was born.  He hadn't heard her complain, not even once in all those months, unless it was in jest and she refused to let any cracks show on the veneer she struggled to uphold every day.  The fact that she was sharing this piece of herself, a piece he could see made her self-conscious, was a sign of the trust she had chosen to place in him. 

 

Though they'd claimed to be friends from the start, it wasn't until this very moment that Kisuke felt truly close to her.  Especially because he was all too familiar with how Yoruichi felt.  The only difference was that he had always had his mother, whereas Yoruichi's parents, while clearly proud of her, didn't show their affection often, or in ways that were considered common.

 

"So there, that's it," Yoruichi said, shrugging.  "I'm grumpy because I want this day to be aaaaall about me.  Go ahead and tell me I'm being a bra—"

 

"Today is my birthday, too."

 

Yoruichi's head snapped to the side toward him so fast, he was certain she was going to lose her balance.  "What?"

 

Kisuke gave her a sympathetic smile; it wasn't often he met someone else whose birthday fell on an unfortunate date.  "Not on the 1st, like yours, but today, yeah.  December 31st."

 

"Oh.  Well… happy birthday."

 

Kisuke let out a chuckle at that.  The look on her face mirrored what must've been his own expression when she'd first mentioned it was her birthday tonight.  If the revelation had happened under a different setting, he might've been tempted to work out the actual math behind this revelation, but he didn't think Yoruichi would be up for it.  "Thanks," he told her.  "You know, since my clan has always been a retainer of the Shihouin clan, I've never had much of a birthday celebration, either.  Everyone spends their day paying their respects to your family and all that, and they more or less forget about me.  Except for my mom.  But she's away this year, so… we're in the same boat."

 

Yoruichi simply stared at him, the coincidence still clearly startling to her, but there was something else in her eyes, as well.  He couldn't quite pinpoint the feeling, but he could tell some of the weight had lifted from her shoulders; she wasn't feeling quite so alone in this anymore and neither was he.

 

"Hey, at least _your_ birthday can be celebrated tomorrow," Kisuke said, deciding to push his luck and tease her a little in the hopes of improving her mood even more.  " _Mine_ always gets caught up in preparations for the big night and there's never any time for it."

 

"Oh yeah?"  Yoruichi said, arching an eyebrow.  "Because when everyone is either sleeping till noon, or telling me to be quiet because they have a headache I'm having such a fantastic time, huh?"

 

"Okay, okay, you win," Kisuke said, holding his hands up in mock defeat.  "Your pain is greater than mine."

 

Yoruichi nodded curtly, a tiny smile etched on her lips.  "Thank you," she said, turning her attention back to the glittering sun in the distance.  

 

In the back of his mind, he was conscious of the fact that if he took too long to return with Yoruichi, Ms. Fujiwara would go berserk and come out in search of them –not necessarily in that order.  However, he recognized that Yoruichi's need to vent far exceeded the importance of any festival, no matter how high-brow.  He wasn't planning on taking her back to class until he was satisfied she truly felt better.  The only question was how he was going to achieve that.  For the time being, she seemed to be enjoying the view, and though she was still likely blue about her situation, it must've lifted her spirits to know she wasn't the only one feeling this way today.

 

"There should be, like… a special day for everyone whose birthday sucks," she said.  "Like a super-birthday."

 

Kisuke let out a soft chuckle at her idea.  _Wouldn't that be something?_ He could picture it, a massive room filled with other children whose birthdays fell close to those of their younger siblings, or holidays like New Year's and Coming of Age Day, all united against the injustice and determined to celebrate as a joint front.  It was certainly a fun idea, but if he was being entirely honest, he would much rather spend his birthdays playing tag with Yoruichi, or secretly fishing at the koi pond, or building an even larger blanket fort than the ones they'd constructed in the past.  Alright, so perhaps his mother was allowed to show up for a bit, and maybe Tessai if he promised to show them more cool tricks with kidou.  Mostly though, he wanted to spend the day with her, and was a little angry at the universe for allowing him to be born so early; his mother had always said he was born close to midnight and he couldn't help but think that if they shared a birthday, it would've been seen as noteworthy enough to make sure people remembered more often.

 

If only he had taken a little longer, or if she had hurried up.  It was a shame to miss out on such an opportunity for a mere few hours.  Maybe they could split the difference, make it so—

 

"Huh," he said out loud, both eyebrows arching sky-high.  "Here's a thought:  we can celebrate together."

 

"Hmmm?"

 

Kisuke's lips twitched upwards; he was liking his sudden flash of inspiration more and more by the second.  "Think about it.  There's this moment, right after the final few seconds to midnight, when it's simultaneously _both_ our birthdays."

 

Yoruichi didn't seem to be following his train of thought.  "Huh?"

 

Kisuke turned to her, grinning.  "Do a mock countdown for me.  Say it's December 31st, five seconds to midnight.  Go."

 

"O… okay," Yoruichi said, clearly puzzled about what he was getting at, but she played along anyway.  "Five, four, three, two, one—"

 

"Okay, stop!  Now think about time freezing at this _exact_ moment.  What day is it?  The 31 st, or the 1st?"

 

Yoruichi blinked a couple of times, staring at a fixed point somewhere in the vicinity of his forehead, but not really looking at him.  "It's… both?"

 

"Exactly," he said, smiling at her.

 

It took her a few more seconds to really home in on what he was trying to say, but when she did, her face broke into an ear-splitting grin.  "All right.  Sooo… what?" she said, throwing one leg over the other side of the branch so she was straddling it instead of sitting, and inched closer to him.  "We wish each other a happy birthday at the stroke of midnight?"

 

"We could, if you'd like.  Let everyone else celebrate your clan at that moment.  Just for a second, it'll be about _us_ , instead."

 

"Oh, OH!" Yoruichi said, arms flailing.  "You know what we should do?  We should, like, take a few steps away, turn to each other, then make a run for it and do a chestbump when the clock strikes twelve!"

 

Kisuke laughed at her suggestion, unsure of what made him happier: her sudden change in mood, or the fact that she seemed to love his idea.  "I think your parents may have me arrested if I hit you outside of lessons again."

 

"Wuss," Yoruichi said, sticking her tongue out at him playfully.  "Okay, how about a high-five, then?"

 

"Ehhh…" he said, shrugging.

 

"Not the stupid high-five _kids_ do, the way grown-ups do it," Yoruichi said, in a tone that implied she expected better of him, that he would think she'd suggest something so childish.  "Hold your hand out."

 

Kisuke did so, raising his arm slightly above his head, palm facing out.

 

"Lower, like this," Yoruichi said, holding her own arm out right in front of her, elbow bent.  "Now reach for my hand and grab it tight."

 

Once again, Kisuke did as he was told.

 

"And clench!" she said, holding his hand tight and giving his arm a sharp tug.

 

It wasn't bad as far as handshakes and the like went, but he was pretty sure her definition was a little off.  "I don't think that's called a high-five," he said, but quickly retracted when he saw her brows come together.  "Buuuuuut, I like it."

 

Yoruichi grinned at him.  "So it's settled, then?"

 

"It's settled.  Five seconds to midnight, we'll find each other, do the hand… _thing_ and then watch the fireworks together."

 

Yoruichi now smiled broader than ever.  The last few misery-filled days might have never happened, to look at her now; she was positively glowing. 

 

"Come on, let's get to class before Ms. Fujiwara has an aneurysm," Kisuke said, a little sad to put an end to the moment, but he didn't want their current euphoria to end on a bad note by having their apoplectic tutor scream at Yoruichi for her truancy.  There was more than enough time to privately gloat at how he had managed to cheer her up later.

 

They climbed the tree down carefully, Yoruichi doing it far more gracefully and quickly than he did.  There was a bounce to her step, he was glad to see, as though the excitement of their secret pact couldn't even be spoiled by class.  She looked like was about to rush off to the estate, when she came to a stop, hesitating for a second, her back turned to him.  Kisuke was about to ask her what was wrong when she swiveled around and threw her arms around his neck.  The act nearly threw him off balance; while he wasn't a complete stranger to her touch, Yoruichi had always been openly disdainful of such flagrant displays of affection.  He had long ago come to terms with the fact that having Yoruichi as his friend meant that there would be no sentimental declarations of friendship in their future, but he accepted it as part of who she was; her actions spoke loud and clear, so he had never felt the need for her to verbalize what he already knew she felt. 

 

And yet, much like he had relished hearing her _say_ that she liked him for who he was, he found himself feeling equally humbled by her embrace.  If he knew her as well as he thought he did, it wasn't likely to happen again anytime soon, so he willed his rigid joints and limbs to reciprocate as best they could; he was still a little taken aback, after all.  As he awkwardly wrapped his arms around her, he felt her kiss his cheek for a fraction of a moment.  Looking back, he would come to realize that the whole interaction from start to finish had barely lasted three seconds, but to him, it would always feel like a lifetime.  Her lips had been cold and slightly chapped, but at that point he was far past caring for such minutiae.  His fingers contracted involuntarily and his entire body temperature seemed to rise a good four degrees within the blink of an eye.  Before he could wrap his head around what had just happened, Yoruichi slipped out of his slack embrace like an eel, plunging him into a veritable ocean of feelings he had no idea what to make of.

 

Part of him was relieved she instantly turned around and never made-eye contact; his face must've been a ridiculous crimson mask of confusion, and he would've hated for her to see him in such a state.          

 

"Race you back!"  Yoruichi said, running off toward the estate, her long ponytail bouncing behind her back.

 

Kisuke gave himself a moment until he could make sense of his surroundings again, his hand ghosting over the spot her lips had touched but a moment ago.  Shaking his head once as though to get rid of something stuck between his ears, he sprinted off in her wake, his mind still a little abuzz with everything that had just transpired.  

 

That night, even though his mother was absent on Lord Shihouin's business, Kisuke had what was without a doubt the best birthday of his life thus far.  Yoruichi's opening dance in the great hall was a sensation; she cast a shadow far greater than her young years under the moonlight, her face painted as pale as the moon itself, contrasting the beautiful crimson hikizuri that flowed along with her graceful movements to the beat of the taiko.  When the sound of the drum came to an end and Yoruichi held her final pose, all the lanterns in the hall erupted with light, signaling the start of the festivities.  The whole room burst into applause, but no-one clapped harder than Kisuke did, not even Ms. Fujiwara, who looked like the last few minutes had caused her to age a century overnight. 

 

The feast that followed was unlike anything he could have imagined, holding delicacies from every corner of the realm.  The festive music that accompanied the dinner lasted all night long, even following the procession that led them all outside to the estate's oldest, most magnificent maple tree for the climax of the evening. 

 

Though the branches were naturally nude, Kisuke could now see the entire tree had been filled with crimson washi folded into perfect replicas of maple leaves.  The lowest branches held the only differently colored pieces of paper, the white tanzaku he and his classmates had been working on this morning.  Lord Shihouin picked one at random and cast his eyes toward the star-filled sky.  It was close to midnight. 

 

Realization dawned on him; he only had seconds to locate Yoruichi and fulfill their pact.  Slipping out of Ms. Fujiwara's sight was easier than expected, as everyone's attention was trained on the sky, waiting for the reading of the tanzaku and the magnificent fireworks the Shiba clan was said to always provide for the occasion.  As he squeezed through the throng of people, he saw Yoruichi a few feet away doing the same.  Kisuke pushed through, reaching out for her hand as Lord Shihouin's last few words were heard in the clearing.  Yoruichi grabbed on, pulling him close with a broad smile on her still painted face.  As they joined hands, they leaned toward each other and whispered 'Happy birthday' to one another in unison.

 

The Shiba clan's fireworks ended up being far more spectacular than he had thought possible.  Watching the bright red, green and blue sparks blossom into the dark sky was impressive enough on its own, but sharing the experience with a friend, hands clasped together tightly, made it downright magical, Kisuke thought.

 

For the remainder of his days, even when life's circumstances forced him and Yoruichi apart at that time of the year, all Kisuke had to do was look at the sky on the night of December 31st and he would know that he was not alone.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, confession time. As most people unfortunate enough to be born close to major holidays will tell you, it can be a pain since the seasonal celebration tends to eclipse anything else. (Btw, they really do have birthdays on the 31st and 1st and there's a very cute omake about it in a New Year's filler episode). The only reason I ever came up with the whole birthday pact thing is because I really liked the visual of those two watching fireworks together on New Year's. I was thinking I was being soooo clever with the whole seconds to midnight thing, before I realized that, hey, Japan didn't always celebrate New Year's according to the Gregorian calendar. For most of its history, Japan celebrated the same time the Chinese do. This only changed in 1873, which would mean that when Kisuke and Yoruichi were children, they would have celebrated New Year's more than a full month later. Cue yours truly breathing into a paper bag.
> 
> Even knowing this, I was so attached to the visual already, that I was determined to come up with a way to keep it in the story. This is how the celebration of the founding of the Shihouin clan came to be, so if it sounds a little gimmicky, that's because it totally is, I am well aware. My apologies, but the rule of 'killing your darlings' is a little too hard to uphold at times. Plus, it made me chuckle to think of them commiserating about their rotten luck when New Year's gets moved to January 1st.
> 
> In following chapters, I'm going to start skipping a few years forward, since I don't want to this to balloon up into 300 chapters or so. I just felt covering the first year in both timelines was important to set the foundation for what's coming next, and it was also a chance to introduce people like Kuukaku and Tessai into the mix, not to mention baby Kaien. It's also why this chapter is about three times the size of the last one. Generally speaking, my editing skills suck so my chapters tend to be long, but I can't promise a set number or words here as I may feel like ending a chapter on a particular note, or spending some extra time to cover a time period before moving on to the next, like I did this time. 
> 
> To be perfectly honest, I also wanted to get the really young age bracket out of the way as fast as I could. Coming up with the voices of their six year old selves gave me a lot of trouble, since the whole soul age thing came back into play. Yes, time probably feels much more different to them than a human, but still, imagine covering the material of one school year spread in ten. Which they clearly don't, so to me, it makes sense that as spirits with theoretically infinite time on their hands, they are far more knowledgeable than they would be at their respective human age. It's one more of those brain-busters (even worse if you start to think about babies, and Shinigami parents having to change diapers for DECADES) that comes with the way Kubo set up their aging, so I cut myself some slack here and decided to have them sound a lot more mature than human six-year olds might be. It's easier to do with Kisuke, what with him being a genius and all, but I'm struggling with Yoruichi's voice. She's supposed to have a distinct tone, basically speaking much like an old man would, and I'm still working out the kinks in future scenes. I figured it could've been something she developed over the years, so I gave myself a pass on this while she's still a kid.


	4. Inspiration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seeing as the manga will most likely catch up with me soon enough, I have decided that I can't keep agonizing about what we might find out and how it might contradict my story and whether I have to rethink my entire plot. I can't keep making major changes every time we learn something new, so I have decided to choose a cut-off point (that being chapter 615), which I'm sure will do wonders for my sanity. Minor new plot points that can be worked into my story without screwing up its original intent/course will definitely be considered.
> 
> Given the size, this should have been split in two chapters; there's certainly enough material in here for two. The only reason I left this monstrosity intact was because it's actually meant to be a companion to the next chapter. Kisuke and Yoruichi get one chapter devoted to them each (this is Kisuke's), both with their own theme, and one common larger theme binding them together as a two-parter of sorts. The two combined together will cover the years from adolescence to adulthood, right up to the moment they enter the academy. Fair warning: Kisuke is a mess in this chapter (because puberty). 
> 
> I have many notes on this chapter, so if you're interested and want an explanation on Yoruichi's jokes, among other things, check out the respective tumblr post (url can be found in my profile) under the 'bleach fanfiction' tag. 
> 
> The line about coincidence and the universe is taken from BBC's Sherlock. Also, let us pretend that the story excerpt in Yoruichi's scene is from Generic Pirate Novel #15 (starring Simon Smythe) and not from Robinson Crusoe. I wrote that scene feeling very pleased with myself, having done my research concerning the publication date and whether a Japanese translation existed. Turns out the Japanese translation didn't come along until 1848, more than a hundred years after the scene takes place. FORGIVE ME, KIND READER, I HAVE NOT THE STRENGTH TO EDIT THIS SHIT AGAIN. IT STAYS.
> 
> Yukata: a slim, spring/summer kimono  
> Namagashi: traditional treats served with tea  
> Futomaki: thick roll of shushi  
> Kotatsu: a low table frame usually covered by a futon
> 
> Enjoy!

**APRIL 21 ST, 1909 A.D., KARAKURA TOWN, JAPAN – 4 A.M.**

 

 

_"Do you ever feel trapped?"_

_"Not out here.  Not when I look at the stars," Kisuke says, smiling.  His black Death God robes billow in the wind as he points up to the night sky._

_"But aren't they trapped as well?" Yoruichi asks.  She is young, barely one hundred and twenty, her small hand ensconced in his._

_"It's for the good of the Court," he says, and pulls her way.  "We must hurry."_

_"Are we going to the sea?"_

_"Not yet," he says as he helps her climb the maple tree by the shrine._

_She settles upon the thickest branch, legs swinging in the air.  "I'm going to be a pirate."_

_He returns her beaming smile, pressing his palms against the rough bark of the tree.  "First I have to get your maps back."_

_"Because you lost them."_

_"I didn't mean to.  It was for the good of the Court," he reiterates.  It is very important that she understand. "Will you wait here?"_

_She's a woman grown now, white cloak thrown over her shoulders. "I'm going to be a pirate," she says, pulling up the matching mask to her grinning lips, before she turns around and jumps off the branch._

_"Wait!"  He calls for her again and again, but the sky above them grows dark when the stars go out and she doesn't call back. Kisuke pushes himself off the tree trunk.  The topmost maple leaves have disappeared under the thick veil of darkness that hangs above, like a black cloud.  Behind him, he can hear the sound of footsteps crinkling against the brown, dry grass._

_Aizen comes to a stop next to him, examining the tree with interest.  His captain's haori is almost blindingly white in the darkness, the number twelve inscribed on the back.  "I'm glad you came here tonight," he says._

_"You scared her off," Kisuke tells him, glaring at the empty branch above ruefully._

_"You did it first."_

_"I didn't do anything."_

_"You put out the lights," Aizen says, turning to look at him.  Behind the thick frames of his glasses, his eyes are gleaming with amusement as he motions downwards._

_Kisuke follows his gaze, all the way down to his own outstretched palm.  The stars are swirling around in his hand like fireflies, all one thousand of them; he knows, he counted every one.  "But I locked them away," he tells Aizen, his voice small and his face contorted into a pained grimace._

_Aizen nods in agreement, his arms folded behind his back.  "It was for the good of the Court."_

_Letting out a frustrated growl, Kisuke snaps his palm shut and the lights scatter away.  He must hurry.  He has to find her before she reaches the sea._

_He storms off the clearing, picking up his pace, but it's taking too long and she's always been good at Hide and Seek.  He travels for miles, following the ghostly sound of her laughter hanging in the air, but he can never catch up.  She is everywhere and nowhere, in the scent of jasmine on the sheets of the bed, in the novels casually piled next to the fireplace at the cottage, in the sound of the soft jazz record playing in her room at the barracks._

_Perhaps she's at the haunted house.  The owners never came back; they couldn't stand the cries of the Visored.  When he gets there, he braces his shoulder against the rickety door and it flies open, dust rising up in clouds as he hurries up the stairs._

"Can you feel this?"

 

_He finds her sitting on the windowsill, her back turned to him, a thin, rippling silver gown embracing her slender frame like woven moonlight.  And in that moment she is stunning, so supremely Other, a beautiful apparition that fills his heart with awe.  The silken sheet of her ebony hair tumbles down her breast as she turns and there is bitterness in her eyes, cold, hard resentment that freezes the breath in his lungs and brings him to a stop._

"Kisuke?"

_"You truly are precisely the man I thought you were," she says, then throws her head back in laughter.  When she opens her mouth, the gaping maw within is speckled with the lights of a thousand souls._

 

"Kisuke, are you all right?"

 

Kisuke blinked several times, all at once realizing that he was sitting up in bed and had apparently woken up at least a few seconds ago.  Still trapped within the short timeframe that separated sleep from wakefulness, where the boundaries between dreams and reality bled into each other, he struggled to differentiate between what was real and what was imaginary.  As though plucked straight from his nightmare, Yoruichi sat on the windowsill, clad in a white – ** _White_** _, not silver, **WHITE** \- _thin yukata, eyeing him with concern.

 

"Yoruichi?" Kisuke said, his voice thick with lassitude.

 

Yoruichi slid down from her perch and approached him.  "I asked if you're all right," she said, taking a seat on the bed next to him.  She raised one hand up, fingers softly raking through his hair.  "I've been talking to you for almost a full minute and you weren't making any sense."

 

Kisuke leaned into her touch, letting out a soft moan and squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.  _Breathe, **breathe**._   "Sorry, weird dream," he said, opening his eyes again and reaching up to wrap his hand around hers, a little more tightly than he had intended.  The warmth of her hand helped anchor him back to reality, and before Yoruichi could ask anything that would force him to lie, he loosened his grip on her and pretended to busy himself with a fictional crick in his neck.  "What about you?  Why aren't you asleep?" he asked.

 

Yoruichi motioned toward the window, her face knotted into a deep frown.  "Can't you feel this?"

 

It took him a while to realize what she was talking about.  Brain still foggy with sleep, he stared at the ajar window blankly, trying to put her words into context, when he felt it: the undeniable pulse of Hollow spiritual pressure rippling through the atmosphere.  The spiritual signature was so powerful, that he couldn't believe it had taken him this long to notice.  How had he even been able to sleep through such a disturbance?  "What…?" he muttered, slipping out of the covers and getting on his feet at once.  "What's a thing like that doing here?  There's hardly anyone around with a decent level of spiritual power," he said, rushing over to the window.

 

Yoruichi ambled forward, coming to a stop by his side.  "Apparently there is now," she said.

 

Kisuke stared at the moonlit scene outside without really seeing it, a knot forming in his stomach.  Was it their neighbor, Haruka?  Ever since the Koizumi family had moved across the street from their home, Kisuke had lived in fear that one day, the young daughter of the family, the only one with any supernatural sensitivity in the small town, would finally become truly aware of them.  Their presence alone and the influence of their immense spiritual power was enough to guarantee that, but he had hoped to postpone a move for as long as possible.  For the past eight years, he had monitored the development of her power discreetly, rejoicing in the fact that after a bout of rapid growth, it seemed to have reached a plateau.  There was nothing, not even their own power that could have triggered such a sudden shift.  The only reasonable explanation was that there was a new source of spiritual power somewhere in the city, and he had missed it.

 

"It think there's two of them," Yoruichi said, breaking the silence.

 

"Are you sure?  It might just be one powerful Hollow."

 

Yoruichi shook her head.  "Close your eyes and concentrate on it.  It's subtle, but you'll be able to see."

 

Kisuke did so, trusting Yoruichi's near-legendary senses; with years of practice in masking her own spiritual pressure, she was able to lock upon nuances that few others did.  After a couple of seconds, Kisuke understood what she was saying.  What he had thought was one, massive concentration of spiritual power actually belonged to two different entities, though their signatures were very similar.

 

"I've seen this before," Yoruichi said.  "Sometimes a shared traumatic event before death… It's probably siblings.  My guess is twins."

 

Kisuke kept his gaze trained on the window outside, swallowing hard. 

 

Hollows. In Karakura town.

 

Decades upon decades of life as a Death God had trained him to develop an instant gut-reaction to the appearance of a Hollow.  His entire body was rearing to go, ready to jump into action, but his mind, his sense of preservation was holding him back.  Could he have miscalculated so badly?  _It certainly wouldn't be the first time,_ his subconscious shot back.  Was there truly someone in their small town whose powers warranted an invasion of not one, but two reasonably powerful spirits?  Could he truly stay behind, listless, when human lives were in danger? 

 

Yoruichi seemed to share his dilemma.  "What do we do?" she asked, turning to him.

 

The choice was clear; either stay indoors and do nothing, or step outside and risk any number of possible outcomes.  What wasn't clear was the reason behind this sudden appearance.  His mind was already overflowing with every scenario he could come up with as to why this could be happening, some of them likely, others bordering on paranoid.  _Are we being drawn out?  Is this a trap?_ Even more worrying was the possibility that this was nothing but the natural course of things, for it would mean this was only the beginning.  "I… I don't know," he said, turning to look at Yoruichi for some guidance, but she could only stare outside the window, worrying her lower lip in thought.

 

"I'm going," she said, after what felt like a very long deliberation.  "I'll observe for a while.  Maybe someone will show up."

 

In the end, it all came down to the oath: being an exile didn't change the fact that they'd sworn to protect humanity to the end of their days.  He had always been able to count on her to remind him of his duty.  Looking down at her, he smiled.  "You take the left one, I'll take the right one?"

 

Yoruichi returned the smile, eyes flitting up to look at him.  "Okay."

 

In the blink of an eye, her yukata fell to the floor in a pool of white, a lithe, black cat emerging out of it.  She hopped up onto the ledge and out the window, blending in with the darkness instantly; true to her name, a genuine creature of the night.  He couldn't deny that part of him was excited at the prospect of slipping into his old skin, if only for a night.  He could only imagine what it must feel like for her.

 

_"Do you ever feel trapped?"_

 

_Don't.  There's work to do._ Shaking his head, Kisuke entered his gigai, pausing only for a moment at the nostalgic sight of the dark robes and the captain's haori, before he followed Yoruichi's lead, stepping out the window. 

 

As he glided through the crisp night air, soaring over the rooftops, he was mentally transported back to a time when he had a different home, a different life, when he was a hunter clad in black, all five senses concentrated on locating his prey.  Just for a second, the fleeting worry of what would happen should a human spot him crossed his mind, but he brushed it away; he wouldn't risk going outside in his real form, no matter what.  And if he happened to be seen, well… _I'll deal with it,_ he thought, his lips twitching up into a grin.

 

Before he knew it, he found himself no longer caring for subtlety or camouflage, trying to push the limits of his artificial body without employing Flash Steps.  How far could he jump?  How well could he keep his balance?  How much was he bound by the laws of earthly physics?  He could feel it growing closer, his prey, the pulse of spiritual pressure in tune with his own heartbeat.  _Thump._   Nice long jump.  _Thump._  Fingers ghosting over the hilt his sword.  _Thump._ The moonlight reflected off Benihime's dark body.  _Thump._   The pungent, strangely appealing scent of corrupted blood in the air.  _Thump._   A sharp, otherworldly cry echoing in the distance.

 

And then he was there.  And _it_ was there, and every spirit particle trapped within the synthetic body was thrumming in anticipation.  All that stood between him and the Hollow was a boy: a young, clearly unexperienced Death God.  _So they did send someone, after all._ For the briefest of moments, Kisuke felt his chest bubble with resentment at the stranger who had intercepted _his_ kill, but he checked himself almost immediately; it was a stark reminder as to why he nearly always chose to stay off the battlefield, and the realization he had felt even that momentary spike of anger toward the boy had a very sobering effect.

 

Approaching the edge of the rooftop, Kisuke knelt down, balanced on the pads of his feet, arms resting on his thighs.  On the street below, the boy, a young Death God with shortly cropped brown hair, unsheathed his sword, readying himself to face the beast before him.  The Hollow's physiology was intriguing: it had a lizard-like body, its core slightly curved outwards to the left, and of its front limbs, only one of them was fully developed, while the other hung to its side, lifeless and atrophic.  Yoruichi's theory on the spirits of twins becoming corrupted now seemed very likely; he could definitely picture the original Hollow, two-headed and powerful, splitting into two lesser spirits, much like a zygote did to result into two fetuses. 

 

_What I wouldn't give to get those two Hollows in the same room,_ he thought, relieved to find himself once again under the thrall of a mental puzzle, rather than the thrall of bloodlust.

 

Whatever sympathy he felt for the two tortured souls, or any scientific curiosity, it had to be placed aside for the moment, as the Death God battling the Hollow demanded Kisuke's full attention.  Even though the Hollow's power was less than half of what the original had been, it still outclassed the boy that had been sent to deal with it.  Judging by the way he moved and the amount of spiritual power he possessed, Kisuke concluded that the young man was just a notch above rank and file troops, perhaps an eighteenth, or seventeenth seat.  Kisuke couldn't fault Soul Society for sending such a green boy to fight someone who was leagues ahead of him in power; Karakura Town had never been classified above a Minimal Danger Zone and would have, under normal circumstances, been the ideal first mission for a rookie Death God.

 

Keeping his distance proved to be far harder than he thought it would be.  Every time the beast made a swipe with its claws that nearly grazed the boy, Kisuke's hand flew over his blade instinctively.  He might as well have been watching Hiyori down there, all the while hearing Yoruichi's admonitions in his head, telling him to trust his subordinates and stay back. He tried to listen, he truly did, but every instinct in his body was telling him that the situation was different, that Hiyori was an accomplished fighter, whereas this boy was barely out of the Academy and up against someone he shouldn't have to face for another few decades.  It wasn't a matter of determination or perseverance, but of an insurmountable difference in power levels, plain and simple.  Mathematically speaking, the question wasn't whether he would lose period, but _when_.

 

In the end, the decision was made for Kisuke.  After evading and trying in vain to land a blow for minutes, the young Death God's body could no longer summon the power to move fast enough.  Kisuke watched the beast strike, its claws plunging deep into the boy's abdomen.  It flicked its arm lazily, like waving off an annoying fly, and its victim found himself flying in mid-air, his path coming to a stop only when he crashed into the wall of an adjoining house.  He was out cold before he hit the ground.

 

_Okay, that's enough,_ Kisuke thought, engaging into a Flash Step before the Hollow could move again.  The beast raised its arm to strike the finishing blow on the boy's prone body, but it met more resistance than it had anticipated.  Kisuke now stood between the boy and the Hollow, Benihime blocking the path of its claws.  He saw the momentary flicker of surprise on the monster's eyes before it let out a low hiss, presenting a mouth filled with razor-sharp teeth.  There was a shrill screech as it fought against the blade, metal against metal, and Kisuke felt it again, the thrill, the urge to toy with his prey, the siren song of battle. 

 

_The boy, think of the boy._

_But it has been **so** long…_

In his hand, he felt the shudder that passed through Benihime, her low, throaty voice pleading in his ear for release.

 

_"Do you ever feel trapped?"_

 

Clenching his teeth, Kisuke held his sword arm firm and raised a single finger beneath the creature's face, right before the torso.  "Hadou number four, Byakurai," he said.  Inside his head, Benihime let out an indignant shriek that resonated to the very pits of his soul. 

 

A beam of white light exploded out of the extended digit, bright enough that he had to squint.  In between Benihime's scream and the roar of the spell, he never even heard the creature's cry of pain as it staggered back, barely holding on to life.  Kisuke lowered his sword, studying the pitiful form of the Hollow as it twitched on the ground in agony, nearly half its midsection gone.  Slowly, he stepped forward, twisting the hilt of Benihime once to get a better grip.  The Hollow made a feeble attempt to protect itself, raising its trembling, atrophic limb, but Kisuke knew instinctively there was no fight left in the poor beast.  He raised his sword, then brought it cleanly down the middle of the masked face.

 

The Hollow shrieked, its entire body lighting up white before it began to dissolve into small, brightly colored particles.  One by one, the glittering speckles rose up into the air, the once massive body growing smaller and smaller, until it began to resemble a human in shape.  The final few particles peeled off the soul's body like multicolored scales, revealing the spirit of a small young girl, no older than twelve in human years.

 

Kisuke smiled at her reassuringly, kneeling down to her level.  The girl regarded him with large, beautiful onyx eyes, anguish written all over her pale face.  "Are you looking for your twin?" Kisuke asked her in a gentle voice.  The girl nodded, tears welling up in her eyes.  "She won't be long, I promise," he said, raising the hilt of Benihime before her head.  "Don't worry, it's all over now.  It won't hurt anymore," he said, and pressed the hilt against her forehead.

 

The girl closed her eyes, her entire face relaxing in a peaceful smile as the blue light enveloped her.  Her body shrank and shrank until all that was left was a small, pulsing sphere.  Kisuke watched the sphere ascend to the sky, where it flickered once and disappeared.

 

"Good luck," he whispered, knowing the girl's chances of finding her twin in Soul Society were slim to none, but hoping it would happen all the same.

 

_And the night's just getting started,_ he thought, getting back up to his feet and approaching the fallen Death God.  The boy's essence was still holding on to life, but he needed immediate medical attention.  Kisuke slipped Benihime back into her sheath, then knelt down by the young man's side.  He would have to be careful about how far to heal him; he wanted the boy to survive and make a full recovery, but he needed him to remain unconscious until Kisuke could assess the situation with the second Hollow.  He couldn't very well abandon the boy in the street.

 

The lacerations on his abdomen were deep enough to cause copious bleeding, but Kisuke found, to his relief, that there had been no massive damage to his internal organs.  That meant the boy would be up and about in a matter of hours, rather than days.  There was little he could do about the state of his shredded kimono, but Kisuke tied the split open garment as best he could.  The young Death God was stable and out of danger, but Kisuke lingered a while before joining Yoruichi.  The question was still eating him up: why had the Hollows appeared in the first place and was Soul Society aware of the anomaly?  Deciding this was his best chance at any kind of answer, Kisuke went through the pockets of the boy's robes, hoping to find a roll of parchment, or any type of missive containing instructions from his superiors.  He found nothing.  The boy was carrying no more than his sword, not even a Divine Memory Converter to use in case he was seen by a human whose memories would then need to be modified.

 

_Now **that** … is odd, _Kisuke thought.   _If Soul Society knew Hollows had appeared in Karakura, doesn't it follow that there would also be spiritually aware humans?_   Standing up, Kisuke surveyed the scene of the battle, looking for any sign of the converter, or any other item that could have fallen out the boy's pockets, but once again, came up with nothing.  _What the hell is going on?  I know it's not Haruka; I last checked yesterday morning.  Is there someone new in town?  And if there is, why wouldn't the boy be carrying a converter?_  

 

Frustrated at the lack of answers, but realizing the pressing need to get going, Kisuke propped the young man's body over his shoulder and stepped off, following the spiritual essence of the second Hollow.

 

He found Yoruichi still in her cat form, perched on the edge of a rooftop and watching the battle unfolding below, much like he had.  He came to a soft landing next to her, about to venture a careful look at the street below before he saw Yoruichi's fur stand on end.

        

"You brought him with you?" she hissed at Kisuke, her eyes on the unconscious Death God hanging off his back.

 

Kisuke laid the body of the boy gently on the roof.  "He's out cold, don't worry.  What's going on here?"

 

Yoruichi gave him a reproachful look, her tail twitching, but she didn't press the matter further.  "The kid seems to be handling herself pretty well.  Look," she said, motioning toward the street.

 

Kisuke took a seat beside Yoruichi, observing yet another young Death God –a girl this time- in action.  Her powers were of about the same level as the boy's, but surprisingly enough, she was holding her own against the Hollow.  She was lighter, faster than the boy, something that had clearly given her an advantage in this fight.  Even from this distance, he could see the sheen of sweat glistening off her forehead beneath a fringe of light brown hair, but despite her apparent fatigue, she was moving carefully and not wasting her stamina in useless moves.

 

"What do we do with the boy?" Yoruichi asked.

 

"He's stable.  If his friend down there slays the Hollow, we'll leave him here for her to find.  He should be fine once she takes him back."

 

"Don't you think they'll wonder what happened?"

 

"They will, but they won't be able to track us," Kisuke said.  No Death God of their level had the ability to follow a magical signature back to its source.  "Hmmm… I might've gone with a low-level Bakudo there," he said, as the creature, a mirror image of the one he'd faced, lunged forward but missed the girl.  "If she hadn't hesitated, she would've been able to pull it off."

 

"Eh, I would've gone with a Kazaguruma," Yoruichi said.  "If you time it right…"

 

Kisuke grinned, his eyes still on the girl.  "Not everyone has your speed and reflexes."

 

Yoruichi fell silent, her keen yellow eyes observing the battle.  As opposed to him, she didn't flinch whenever the girl rolled out of the way in the nick of time, or when she miscalculated and swung at nothing but air.  Yoruichi had been a mentor long enough to be far past the stage where one constantly worried over their pupils.  Kisuke thought he had grown better at it during his tenure as a captain, but he knew he still had a long way to go.  "Do you ever miss it?" Yoruichi said, after a few moments of silence.

 

_Yes._ _No.  I don't miss the rules, I don't miss feeling like the Central 46 would have my head if the department didn't prove to be a success, and I don't miss keeping my distance from you in public.  But…_

 

"Sometimes," he admitted.  "Fighting the Hollow was… fun."

 

"You got to fight?  Ugh, now I wish _I'd_ taken the right one."

 

"Looks like she's about done," Kisuke said, as the girl found an opening and jumped over the Hollow.  Twisting in mid-air during her descent, she brought her sword forward and sliced the mask of the Hollow from behind in one, swift move.

 

"Ohhh, there it is," Yoruichi said. Though her current form was incapable of a grimace of any sort, he could hear the smile in her voice.  "Good girl; that was a nice move."

 

Kisuke turned to look at her, watching as her eyes glinted with barely concealed envy.  Though the battle was over, Yoruichi had yet to tear her eyes off the girl, her gaze hungry for more, for any visual reminder of the lives they'd led not long ago.  He had to wonder, just how badly did she wish she could switch places with the other woman?    

 

_"Dou you ever feel trapped?"_

 

Jaw set, Kisuke turned away from the sight of the young girl.  "Come on, let's go before she starts looking for him."

 

* * *

 

 

**JUNE 29 TH, 239 B.H.I., SHIHOUIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS - MIDNIGHT**

 

The shrine of the Shihouin complex was completely deserted at this hour, an eerie silence hanging in the warm summer air.  Kisuke was grateful for the nearly full moon; if it weren't for the light from above, he would have had a nightmare of a time navigating down to the shrine grounds without a torch.  The hooded, thick black cloak hanging from his shoulders had shielded him from any prying eyes, but it wasn't the most ideal garment for such a hot day.  He could already feel beads of perspiration forming on his lower back and upper lip, though he knew the temperature wasn't the sole culprit; every now and then, he would look up toward the wall surrounding the castle, anxiously waiting for a sign of Yoruichi.

 

Sneaking past Asuka had been a breeze; a hint of repnihat extract in her night tea, and the already tired handmaiden had fallen asleep right on top of the kotatsu.  Kisuke just had to make sure he returned to the apartment before his mother did; he didn't want to get Asuka in trouble when she was supposed to have been keeping an eye on him.  Reaching the grounds, though trickier, hadn't been hard to pull off either, not when the entire estate was in an uproar over tonight's event.  With a little patience and good timing, Kisuke had been able to sneak past the guards, only narrowly avoiding Tessai when he almost took a wrong turn. 

 

On his end, the plan had come together flawlessly.  Communication with Yoruichi had been scant for the past three days, so he hoped she hadn't run into any snags tonight.  He tried to convince himself it was only natural for her to be a little late, given the greater margin for error on her end, but he couldn't help feeling a little nervous as he glanced toward the wall again.  _Come on, come on…_   Naturally, an expectation of delay had been factored into the plan so they were still well within schedule, but trouble on her end would certainly take longer to resolve.

 

After what felt like an eternity of waiting, he heard it; their signal, the sound of a cricket chirping.

 

It was a fairly innocuous sound, perfect for their purpose, but if he was being honest with himself, he'd been surprised Yoruichi had suggested it in the first place.  Having once spent nearly three weeks – _Oh, alright, **four** \- _trying to teach him how to whistle, it wasn't very likely that he would succeed when it came to something more advanced.  Still, she had insisted they needed a signal period, so he had practiced and practiced until turning blue in the face, Yoruichi hissing instructions at him.    

 

_"Through the teeth.  THE TEETH!"_

_"Modulate your breath!"_

 

He whistled back, producing a far inferior sound to her crystal-clear one, but still a decent, passable imitation of a cricket.  Eyes trained on the top of the wall, he held his breath, waiting.  It took a couple of minutes, the longest of his life, but eventually, a shadow slowly crept up behind the wall, gliding in absolute silence.  Kisuke grimaced, watching through half-shielded eyes as the shadow approached the invisible barrier, then floated past it with no incident whatsoever.  The shadow landed on top of the wall, and Kisuke was finally able to breathe again when Yoruichi, clad in an identical black cloak, pulled down her hood and grinned at him from above.

 

"I can't believe that worked!" she said, shaking her head.  She turned around once, waving at someone on the other side of the wall, then stowed a round, bright object in the small duffel bag she wore strapped across her chest.  She jumped, landing onto the grass below with a soft, muted sound, crouched like a tiger.

 

Kisuke grinned at her triumphantly.  "I _told_ you you'd be able to pass through the barrier," he said.  Having spent a fair amount of time researching the Shihouin artifacts and the legendary Vault housed in the lowest levels of the estate, he had learned that many items and even entire sections of the castle had been enchanted to respond only to the presence of Shihouin blood and spiritual energy.  Yoruichi had confirmed as much herself when he had asked.  As such, it stood to reason that the barrier protecting the entire complex would also have a similar backdoor.  In retrospect, it hadn't been the best of ideas, waiting to test that theory tonight; it may simply not have worked, or worse, Yoruichi could have gotten hurt. 

 

Trying not to dwell on the possible repercussions of something that was no longer an issue, Kisuke offered Yoruichi his hand, helping her up to her feet.  "It's a shame your friend Kuukaku can't join us; I'd have liked to meet her."

 

"Yeah, I know.  She'll be waiting by the other side till we're done," Yoruichi said, pulling herself upright and dusting her clothes off.  "So?" she said, biting her lower lip eagerly.  "Is it happening tonight?"

 

Kisuke nodded at her.  "Mom left our apartment about an hour ago and I've seen people coming and going in the castle all day.  Tessai is here, too."

 

"I knew it!  Mother is so transparent," Yoruichi said, bursting into an imitation of Lady Hana's slightly high-pitched voice.  " _Why don't you go spend the week with the Shibas?_ Like I'd fall for that."

 

"To be fair, you weren't very persuasive yourself when you tried to question her the other day…"

 

Narrowing her eyes at him, Yoruichi folded her arms in front of her chest.  "I'd like to see _you_ do better."

 

"If you'd only stuck to the script—"

 

"Right, because your script was just so _perfect_ and _I_ messed it all up?"

 

"I didn't say that—"

 

"You wrote that sucky script with _your_ mother in mind; mine isn't quite so open to random chit-chat.  I had to work with how she was reacting; it's called _improvisation_."

 

"Okay, okay!"

 

Yoruichi let out a huff, still giving him her trademark displeased sneer.  "So, are we doing this, or are we gonna sit here, clucking at each other like hens?"

 

Kisuke pulled up the hood of his cloak.  "They're down by the Onmitsukidou complex entrance.  If we head up to the third floor, we should have a pretty good view from the turrets."

 

"Let's go," she said, pulling up her own hood as well.

 

Kisuke led the way back toward the estate, brimming with anticipation.  The mystery that had first presented itself upon Tessai's introduction as their new instructor was finally going to be solved tonight.  For months, they had observed the constantly growing numbers of Kidou masters hired by her father, numbers completely disproportionate to the Vault's or the family's needs.  Tessai had remained tight-lipped after their questioning on the day they had first met, not nearly as welcoming of personal questions as he'd initially been.  Though both Kisuke and Yoruichi vehemently agreed that Tessai was not only a great instructor, but actually kind of fun when he wasn't deliberately being a stick in the mud, they still had no idea what to make of him and his sudden appearance in their lives.

 

About a month ago, Yoruichi had pulled Kisuke aside before school one morning, nearly delirious with news.  Once she'd shared with him that she had overheard her father discussing an upcoming event, they'd both instinctively known it had to be related to the latest influx of talent in the castle.  And so, with four weeks ahead of them, they'd formed a plan, deciding that if they ever wanted to know what was going on, they had to spy on the midnight meeting taking place tonight.  

 

"How did you do it, by the way?  Get over the wall?" Kisuke asked as they circled around the back of the estate.  Yoruichi's side of Project Midnight had to be scrapped and re-formed once her unexpected visit to the Shiba household had been arranged.  Kisuke had been wracking his brains for a replacement plan for days, until Yoruichi wrote him, saying her friend Kuukaku had offered to help.  He had to admit; not knowing Kuukaku, he had been more than a little apprehensive to leave half of their approach up to her, but he'd had no choice.  Not if he didn't want Yoruichi to pounce him for suggesting her friend wasn't as capable of forming a decent strategy. 

 

Yoruichi grinned and pushed her cloak aside.  "With this," she said, pulling out a large, transparent globe out of her bag; it was the object he had seen her stow inside once getting through the barrier.  As she held it up in her hand, Kisuke noticed there was a red mark drawn upon the orb: it resembled a phoenix in flight.  "It's a Shiba invention.  When you inject your spirit energy in it, it helps you float.  You can even create a barrier around you if you pour in enough."

 

Fascinated by the premise, Kisuke reached out for the orb, eager to examine it, but Yoruichi slapped his hand away and slipped it back into her bag. 

 

"I'll show you later!" she said, crouching down into the small bush before them and sitting still, scoping out the area for any guards. 

 

Kisuke joined her, pulling out his pocket watch.  _Twelve thirteen; we made it._   Right on cue, a patrol of two guards appeared from afar, making their scheduled rounds for the night.  There was only a five second window between this patrol and the one coming from the opposite direction, so they would have to time it just right.  Kisuke turned to look at Yoruichi, who gave him a firm nod, then slipped the watch back in his pocket.  The guards walked past them, absorbed in conversation, and continued to make their way around the castle.  When they were nearing the corner, Kisuke reached for Yoruichi's hand and gave it a tight squeeze.

 

"Three, two…" he whispered.  "One!"

 

Like a pair of springs, the two of them bolted out of their hiding place and raced for the door.  Bracing their shoulders against it, they managed to get it open and quickly slipped inside, panting at the brief, but strong rush of adrenaline.  In unison, they turned to look at each other as they caught their breath, backs up against the wooden door.  Kisuke held out his fist and Yoruichi bumped it, grinning.  From here on out, the rest of the way was nearly obstacle-free.

 

Yoruichi took the lead, heading toward the spiral staircase that would lead them up to the third floor.  "Anyway," she whispered, carrying on their conversation from before.  "Kuukaku and Kenzo kept watch, making sure no guards were patrolling the grounds outside the wall."

 

"Who's Kenzo?"

 

Yoruichi scrunched up her nose, sticking out her tongue in disgust.  "Her _boyfriend_ ," she said.  "Kuukaku only agreed to do this because she wanted to sneak out, too, to see him."

 

"I take it you don't like him?" Kisuke asked.

 

"I don't know him," Yoruichi said, shrugging.  "But they were being gross on the way here.  Probably doing something even more gross right now."

 

"What do you mean?  Doing what?"

 

Giving him a decidedly superior grin, Yoruichi patted Kisuke on the head condescendingly and said, "Something not suited for your delicate ears." 

 

Kisuke arched an eyebrow at that, knowing full well that those weren't Yoruichi's words.  Not that she was above such attitude, but whatever it was, she would have no qualms sharing it with him as an attempt to either embarrass or gross him out, instead of being coy.  "Are you just repeating what she told _you_ when you asked?" Kisuke said.

 

Yoruichi's self-satisfied smirk turned into a frown.  _Busted._   "......Yes," she admitted.   "She wouldn't tell me."

 

Kisuke let out a chuckle, but quickly smothered it; even though there were fewer guards in this part of the castle, they still had to be careful.  They both stayed silent for the rest of the way, climbing up the winding staircase.  With every step they took forward, bringing them closer to their ultimate goal, Kisuke could feel his heart drum a little faster.  By the time they reached the third floor landing, he was ready to jump out of his skin.

 

"Okay, here we are," he said, opening the door leading out to the turrets and peeking outside.  There was no-one in sight; most of the guards in the castle would be patrolling around the meeting, no doubt, and with such a powerful barrier protecting the entire complex, any possible intruder would have to be certifiably insane to try and sneak in.  Kisuke beckoned Yoruichi to follow and stepped out onto the cobblestone path.  The walls stood high enough that he couldn't see the grounds below, but he could hear the distant sound of a gathered crowd. 

 

Yoruichi followed him, a bounce to her step, and eagerly placed one hand against the wall, holding her right leg up.  She stared at him expectantly, grinning from ear-to-ear.

 

"What?" Kisuke asked.

 

"Boost me up," she said.

 

" _Or_ we can both just climb the wall."

 

"Yeah, and maybe we should light fireworks and pull out a banner, just in case that's not enough to broadcast out position," Yoruichi quipped, still holding her leg up.  "I'll describe everything; don't be such a baby."

 

Loathe though he was to admit it, Kisuke knew she was right.  It was ridiculous to jeopardize their entire operation now, when they were so close, but he was burning with curiosity.  Once Yoruichi had had her fill, it would be his turn, he resolved.  Letting out a sigh, he bent down, joining his hands.

 

Yoruichi held onto his shoulder with her spare hand and stepped onto his cupped palms with her right leg.  Kisuke boosted her up, waiting until she had a firm hold on the edge of the wall, before letting go and moving in to slip between her legs.  "Ow!" he exclaimed, as Yoruichi's heel grazed his left shoulder when she tried to get into position.

 

"Sit still!" Yoruichi hissed at him.

 

"I'm _trying_!"

 

"Did you forget to eat again today?"

 

"…No."

 

"Yes, you did," Yoruichi said, plopping down upon his shoulders, the top of her head just barely peeking over the edge of the turret.  "You always forget to eat when you're _in the zone_ ," she said, forming quotation marks with her fingers.  "No wonder you could barely lift me."

 

"Would you like to switch, then?"

 

Adopting a soft, meek tone that was nothing like her, Yoruichi protested.  "I'm a tiny little girl; I can't carry you."

 

" _Tiny little—_?  Last week you held me down and wouldn't let go until I said 'uncle'!"

 

"And I'll do it again if you don't keep quiet; it's starting!"

 

Kisuke let out a scoff, reaching up to grab hold of Yoruichi's shins.  _Lovely.  Now I get to stare at a stupid wall while she has a prime spot._ "Well?" he said, sulking.

"Hmm… I don't see Tessai anywhere, Yoruichi said.  "But father is there.  And your mom, I think.  Does she have a green kimono embroidered with… golden flowers?"

 

"Yeah, that's probably her," Kisuke said.  "What are they doing?"

 

"There's a bunch of people there.  Most of them I know; they work for father down at the Vault.  Are those… Death G—?  Whoa!"

 

"What, _what_?"

"There's a captain of the Thirteen Divisions down there!" Yoruichi said, bouncing up and down on Kisuke's shoulders.  "I think it's the Captain-Commander!"

 

" _Really_?"

 

"Well, I can't read the number on his haori; it's too far.  But he has long white hair, so I guess that's him?"

 

_Long white hair?_   It certainly sounded like an old man, but that didn't match the description of the Captain-Commander Kisuke had read about.  "Isn't he bald?" he said.

 

"Oh… right," Yoruichi said, sounding a little disappointed.  "Well, I don't know!  It's still a Captain, though, I'm positive.  He might be—  Oh."

 

_For the love of…_ "You know, for a person who reads so many novels, your descriptive skills leave a _lot_ to be desired," Kisuke grumbled at her.  Her pirate stories in particular were rife with purple prose, and all she could manage was 'oh'?

 

"What?"

 

"Less ohhing and ahhhing, more words!"

 

"Well… he's… he's not old," Yoruichi said.  "I think his eyes are green.  His eyebrows are very dark though, that's strange.  He's kind of… cute."

 

"Are you talking about the _Captain_?" Kisuke asked, craning his neck up to look at her.

 

"Umm, yeah," Yoruichi said, blushing.

 

The Captain in question must have been more than 'kind of' cute to get her to blush like that, he thought, with no small amount of annoyance.  And even more importantly, he still had no idea what was going on down there, other than the fact that his mother, Yoruichi's father and a _cute_ Captain were present.  "The meeting!  What's going on at the _meeting_?" he hissed at her.

 

"I'm trying to figure out!"

 

Shaking his head, Kisuke decided it was time for drastic measures, looking around for anything that would allow him to take a look while remaining concealed.  If worse came to worst, he would just have to risk it and hide behind his cloak, hoping he wouldn't be visible from the grounds below.  There was no way he was missing that meeting.  Much to his relief, once he had taken a better look at the wall, he saw that he wouldn't have to resort to any risk whatsoever.  _Ugh, of **course**!  The entire castle is surrounded by defensive loopholes!_

 

With Yoruichi still on his shoulders, Kisuke dashed over to the far side of the turret, where a hole was carved into the wall; it was small, but perfectly adequate for his purpose.  He would have to stand on his toes to reach it, and with Yoruichi's weight on him, that might prove a little strenuous, but he would deal with that when and if he reached his breaking point.

 

Yoruichi let out a yelp at the sudden change in direction, instinctively hunching down to wrap her arms around his head.  "What are you—?  Oh, good.  Now you can stop whining."

 

As soon as she placed her palms against the wall, Kisuke stood up on his tip-toes, looking through the loophole at the crowd below.  Yoruichi was right; that was definitely a Captain of the Thirteen Divisions down there, two black-clad Death Gods standing on either side of him.  He was deep in conversation with Lord Shihouin, while the rest of the researchers stood around them in a circle.  Yoruichi's father was gesturing toward a huge contraption set at the very middle of the gathering.  It was shrouded by a veil that kept the apparatus's true form hidden from prying eyes, but as Lord Shihouin pulled one edge aside, Kisuke was afforded a small look at the interior: it resembled a two tier fountain, the second tier dominated by a giant lotus sitting at the middle. 

 

_What… **is** that thing? _  Kisuke heard his own gasp mirrored by Yoruichi above.  "You didn't think that giant lotus-shaped thing was worth mentioning?" he asked her, incredulous.

 

"I had no idea what it looked like until just now!" she said.  "And I was about to tell you!"

 

"Sure, right after you were done ogling the _Captain_ ," Kisuke muttered.  The snide comment earned him a sharp punch on the head.  Freeing one hand to rub the sore skin, he glared at Yoruichi.  "He's not the Captain-Commander, by the way.  I can see a ten on his haori, but the rest isn't clear.  So either eleven, twelve or thirteen."

 

"Shut up about the Captain, already!  I don't care!"

 

"Mmmmm-hm…" Kisuke mumbled at her, not believing her for a second, but decided to drop the subject.  They had better things to do than argue about the pretty-boy Captain.   _Probably just got promoted; they must have a severe shortage of capable Death Gods._  

 

To Kisuke's added frustration, Lord Shihouin didn't bother pulling the rest of the veil down to reveal more of the mysterious artifact.  Apparently, the Captain who was now inspecting it had no problem taking a good look under the hood.  _Where's a gust of wind when you need one?  Just our damn luck,_ Kisuke thought, starting to feel the strain of Yoruichi's added weight; the pads of his feet were burning.  The fact that he was still under a thick cloak not meant to be worn during the summer was making matters even worse.  Kisuke let out a sigh, reaching up to wipe his forehead with the back of his palm, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw it; the _beast._

 

"Gah!" he gasped, nearly tripping as he stepped backwards and away from the wall.

 

Yoruichi grabbed hold of his head again at the sudden jarring movement, struggling not to fall.  " _What?_ What happened?"

 

Looking away from the wall, still shaking with shock, Kisuke pointed at it with a trembling finger.  "That… _thing_ nearly took my eye out."

 

"What thi _—_   The _cicada_?" Yoruichi said, snorting.  "You are _such_ a pansy.  It's just a little bug."

 

_Little? **Little**?  _ There were many adjectives Kisuke could have conjured up about the fat, gleaming behemoth that had landed next to him on the wall, but little was not one of them.  "It's the size of a grown man's thumb!"

 

Still chuckling, Yoruichi hunched over his head and looked at him upside down, her ponytail swaying in the air.  "You want me to get rid of it for you?" she said, giving him a wide, toothy grin.

 

"……Please."

 

"Get me closer, then," she said, swinging back upright and yanking at two tufts of his hair like reins.  "C'mon, we're missing the whole thing!"

 

Kisuke approached the wall again with very careful, crab-like steps, still refusing to look at the cicada again.  It was scientifically proven that certain members of the animal kingdom registered eye-contact as an intention of hostility and responded in kind. 

 

When he was as close to the wall as he dared go, Yoruichi reached out for the cicada, trapping it between thumb and forefinger before it could fly away.  The bug instantly started flapping its wings at the contact, emitting a sound that was an obvious sign it was panicking, not unlike Kisuke himself.  Instead of letting it fly away, however, Yoruichi held it up right in front of Kisuke's face, her voice taking on the low, tremulous quality associated with ghosts.  "Oooooooohhhh…"

 

Kisuke stretched his neck as far as it would go, eyes shut.  "Yoruichiiiiii," he whined, shutting his eyes.  The cicada started buzzing even more loudly; the dislike was clearly mutual.

 

Yoruichi laughed, pulling the bug away from his face. "Dork," she said, holding it up.  "How can you be scared of such a cute little thing?  Look at it!  It's so pretty with its transparent wings and its fuzzy little head… "

 

"It sounds like it's having a heart-attack.  _Please_ let it go?"

 

"Oh, _fine._ "  Shaking her head at him, she raised her hand high and released the cicada; it flew away at once.  "There, dragon slayed, Princess Kisuko," she said, patting his head.

  

Certain the blush that lit up his face reached all the way down to his navel, Kisuke muttered a quick, barely audible 'Thank you' at Yoruichi. 

 

"I should start charging you," Yoruichi said, still giggling.  "What's the tally now?  Six grasshoppers, two moths, three cicadas and a horned beetle?"

 

Heavens above, he had _almost_ managed to forget about the horned beetle.  Or at least, it had stopped dominating his worst nightmares.  "Do _not_ remind me of that monstrosity," he said, a shudder rippling through his body.

 

"You're such a drama queen; it was—"

 

"If you say 'cute', so help me, I'm going to drop you."

 

"Pfft, yeah, like you _ever_ would."

 

"Would, too."

 

"Would not."

 

Making deliberate eye-contact, Kisuke gave Yoruichi a smirk and suddenly leaned backwards. He kept a firm hold on her shins, but that didn't stop her from squeezing her legs around him instinctively and reaching for his head, wrapping her entire body around him like an octopus.

 

"Kisukeeee!" she said, half-laughing, half-shrieking.  "Don't you _dare_!"

 

Grinning, he did it again, prompting an even more hysterical reaction, punctuated by laughter.

 

"Well, aren't _we_ having fun?"

 

Kisuke froze on the spot at the sound of the voice.  He felt Yoruichi's legs clench around his neck once in reflex, and he was certain that she, too, was not unlike a statue now.  They had both recognized the owner of that stern tone, for they had been on the receiving end of his reprimands far too often in the past few months.

 

Turning around very slowly, Kisuke came face-to-face with Tessai.  If he didn't know better, he could have sworn he had grown another foot in the hour since he'd last seen him.  Or ten.  How on earth had he gotten up from the meeting to the third floor so fast?  They hadn't seen him leave, and there were still— _Wait.  We never did actually see him there._

 

Bulging arms folded before his massive chest, Tessai was giving Kisuke and Yoruichi his best impression of Mrs. Fujiwara over the rims of his spectacles.  Kisuke had to admit Mrs. Fujiwara's cold stare was more intimidating, but then again, she didn't have an arsenal of spells at her disposal which could be creatively used to punish.  Not that Tessai had ever done that, but the knowledge alone that he could was enough of a deterrent to mischief.  Mostly.  Some times.

 

"Until you learn to cloak your spirit pressure, don't ever presume you can slip past me again," Tessai said.

 

Kisuke didn't know what was worse; the fact that Tessai proceeded to taunt them about their failed plan on a monthly basis for the remainder of his stay at Shihouin castle, or the fact that they never solved the mystery of the lotus-like apparatus.   

 

 

* * *

 

 

**MARCH 21 ST, 193 B.H.I., EN ROUTE TO URAHARA CLAN MANOR, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

 

"Are you going to ask the same question _every_ year?" Kaede said, sighing.

 

Slumped in his seat, hands slipped into his pockets, Kisuke stared at the view outside the window of the carriage blankly.  "I respect tradition.  Every year we visit them and we all pretend to be civil for the whole afternoon, while collectively hoping the other chokes on their namagashi.  Just wouldn't feel the same if I didn't express my displeasure for the forty-seventh time."

 

"Oh, _lovely_.  I've been looking forward to puberty."

 

Kisuke might have laughed at his mother's biting sarcasm if he wasn't in such a bad mood.  It truly was the low point of his year, without fail, their yearly visit to a place he now refused to call home.  While there were a few good memories tied to the family estate, they were all inextricably linked with his mother and fewer still with what little he remembered of his father.  Contact with anyone else in the clan had only ever resulted in awkwardness at best. 

 

For the first few years after their move to Shihouin Castle, his mother had made a genuine effort to stay in touch with their clan, but as all visits had proved to be futile when it came to mending any bridges, she had eventually conceded and decided to limit them to once a year.  And every year, Kisuke would ask if they should drop the pretense and cut all ties for good; as far as he was concerned, the bridges had been burnt to a crisp, their coal-like remains ground down to powder and scattered across the four ends of Soul society.  The only change had been the diminishing level of tact he chose to employ when asking if it was time.  Perhaps she was right; his growing bitterness _could_ be a direct result of growing up.  "Not for another twenty-three years," Kisuke said, eyes on the cherry trees lining the roadside; their branches were already heavy with pink blossoms.

 

Thankfully, this year their visit didn't coincide with the Cherry Blossom Festival.  Two years ago, when she'd decided it would be a good idea to spend it with the Uraharas, Kisuke had thrown a cataclysmic fit, the first and only one to memory.  It had taken his mother by surprise; she had been too stunned by the sight to even pay attention to his tirade about how she could have chosen any other day of the year, or his complaints that he had plans with Yoruichi and the other children of the estate.  It hadn't helped that her sole reaction had been to remark upon the rarity of him shouting, and things had gotten even worse when he'd recounted the story to Yoruichi later, only to have her articulate the exact same response as his mother.

 

"You've always been an early bloomer," his mother reasoned.

 

_Touché._    

 

"Look, Kisuke…" she said.  "I know you've never developed particularly strong bonds with your cousins, or your aunt and uncles, or any of them, really, but they're still your family."

 

**_You_** _are family.  Dad was family.  Yoruichi is family. **They're** blood relations, _Kisuke thought, scowling. 

 

The worst part was that she either didn't seem to understand, or pretended not to understand that his greatest issue with his father's clan had always been their treatment of _her_.  He couldn't care less if his grandparents or his cousins considered him an idiot, but every time they found a new way to subtly insult her, to demean her talents, to challenge what she had meant to his father, Kisuke felt his blood boil.  As a young boy, it had been easy to act as though he couldn't grasp what was actually being said behind honeyed jabs and artificial smiles.  Back then, redirecting the course of a conversation and drawing all attention to him had been enough, but with every passing year, he could feel the pressure mount: he was no longer a child; it was ridiculous and insulting to them both to play the idiot and let the poison flow free, watching in impotence as people who had never amounted to anything tried to aggrandize themselves by putting her down.

 

It would have been the easiest thing in the world to speak his mind openly, but what held him back was the certainty that his outburst would be blamed upon his mother.  Still, there was nothing stopping him from using their own weapons against them.  If the Uraharas had taught him anything worthwhile, it was the art of saying a lot, while saying very little.  It was the one area of noble politics where they truly excelled.

 

"I know," Kisuke said.  "I'll be polite, I promise." 

 

And he kept his word.

 

For instance, when his grandfather suggested his mother's closest friend, Lady Yahagi, might not be the best influence for her or her son, the Yahagi clan deemed too unsophisticated for a Councilwoman of Lord Shihouin, Kisuke readily agreed.  Then went on to elaborate on how certain clans had risen up the social ladder by virtue of nothing but a fortunate marriage.

 

Kisuke never specified which clans those might be; that wouldn't have been polite.

 

* * *

 

 

**JULY 7 TH, 175 B.H.I., SHIHOUIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

 

Kisuke sank into the comfortable pillows surrounding the kotatsu in Yoruichi's room, enjoying the cool summer breeze that blew through the open window.  A large volume was propped up against his bent knees, one hand lazily leafing through the pages while the other lay folded behind his head.  The book in question, titled _Birds and Serpents of West Rukongai_ had proven to be a dull read, after all.  He didn't know what had possessed him to even pick it up in the first place, as most of its information was horribly outdated, but it did have a very extensive section dedicated to owls, a species of bird that had always fascinated him.  He'd had to skim through a great deal of information that he was already familiar with, but there were a few facts on physiology outlined within that he had never heard of before.

 

"That can't be right," Yoruichi said, breaking the comfortable silence.

 

Kisuke looked up from his book to find her rubbing her temple with the wooden part of her brush as she looked at the piece of parchment before her.  In a configuration that would have made his younger self break into hysterical laughter, Kisuke was currently taking care of the bulk of the load when it came to their homework, Yoruichi more often than not using his assignments as an aid for hers.  The reason behind the new arrangement was that over the past few months, Yoruichi had had her schedule nearly double in volume.  On top of their already demanding schooling and activities, as the future head of her clan, Yoruichi needed to be well-versed in just about everything, from politics and diplomacy, down to proper etiquette and various local customs. 

 

Yoruichi was adamant that she was going to make it work, that she couldn't keep relying on him to get by, but so far, she was still having trouble getting used to all her new coursework.  Kisuke had no doubt she would eventually find a proper balance and wished she would stop being so hard on herself, but he understood her well enough to know that even if she was back to her old rhythms next week, she still wouldn't be satisfied with how long it had taken her to adjust.     

 

Kisuke closed the book and sat up, leaning over the table to take a look.  "What's the problem?" he asked her.

 

"It's this section on cultural practices," she says.  "You keep talking about the offerings and festivals in honor of the…" She squinted at the parchment.  " _Ktonic_ deities, whatever that is—"

 

"Chthonic.  Means subterranean."

 

"Right, but the original settlers of the peninsula were sun worshippers," Yoruichi said.  "They had nothing to do with the underworld gods."

 

"Uhhh… yes," Kisuke said.  "But the assignment was on the cave-dwellers."

 

Yoruichi dropped her arm, not even noticing that her brush tip left a dark smear on the table, and frowned at him.  "No, it was on the peninsula settlers."

 

"Pretty sure it was cave-dwellers."

 

"I wrote it down," Yoruichi said, pushing her book in front of him.  "Look!" she said, pointing at the bottom of the page where she had indeed made a note of their assignment.

 

"Maybe you heard Mrs. Fujiwara wrong?" Kisuke suggested.

 

"How are the two phrases even remotely similar?"

 

"All right, it's just that I wrote it down, too," he said.  "And I know I'm not wrong because I ran into Matsuoka the other day and he asked me if he could do the first part of the presentation.  We talked about the assignment and— Hold on," Kisuke said, suddenly realizing something.  "There were two different assignments.  Mrs. Fujiwara split us up into two teams."

 

Yoruichi stared at the wall behind Kisuke blankly for a few seconds, her face contorted into a scowl that told him she was trying to recall the class in question.  After a few seconds, her eyes widened.  "Oh… crap!  She placed us in different teams, _now_ I remember!  Crap, crap, _crap_!  And here I wasted all this time—"

 

"Okay, okay, calm down—"

 

"I can't calm down, I have to finish reading that stupid chapter for—"

 

"What if _I_ did your assignment?" Kisuke said.

 

"Thank you, but I can't keep dumping my work on you," Yoruichi said, rubbing both temples with her fingers.  "I'm just going to have to suck it up—"

 

"Cut yourself some slack; you made a mistake, it's no big deal," he said, holding up a hand to silence Yoruichi when she opened her mouth to speak again.  "Yeah, I know, it's always _something_ , but if it makes you feel any better, we can go over it line-by-line when I'm done.  You'll still learn everything you were supposed to learn, you just won't have to do the research."

 

"I… I don't know…"

 

"Oh, c'mon, I'm reading the _Birds and Serpents of West Rukongai,_ for crying out loud," Kisuke said, holding up the large book for her to see.  "I'll do anything to stave off the boredom."

 

Yoruichi let out a snort of laughter, then looked at Kisuke uncertainly.  "Are you _absolutely_ sure you have nothing better to do?"

 

"If that was a dig at my inherent indolence, I res—"

 

At that moment, both Kisuke and Yoruichi turned toward the door in unison, watching as it swung open, only to reveal Mizuho, Yoruichi's plump, elderly handmaiden.  Glancing at Yoruichi, he saw that she was just as surprised as he was; no-one ever enter her room without knocking and identifying themselves first.  They had even joked once, about the possibility that if she were to find herself in mortal danger, her guards would still knock first and ask to be allowed inside. 

 

Mizuho, her slightly loose topknot bobbing along with every step, strode inside and came to a stop in the middle of the room, falling into a low bow.  "It is almost time for Princess Yoruichi's lesson with Master Kirinji," she said.

 

_Master Kirinji?_

 

Yoruichi turned to look at the clock on the shelf above her, grimacing once she saw that it was already fifteen to four.  "Thank you Mizuho," she said, very deliberately avoiding Kisuke's eye as she got up.  "I'll be ready in five minutes."  Without looking at him, she made her way over to her room, shutting the door behind her.

 

_Am I missing something here,_ Kisuke wondered.  _Who is Master Kirinji?  What lesson?_

 

Mizuho turned to Kisuke, giving him an oddly cold, artificial smile.  "Will you be requiring any help gathering your textbooks, Lord Urahara?" she asked.

 

It was the most polite dismissal he had ever been issued.  Anyone else in his position might have taken it for a genuine offer of aid, but Kisuke had witnessed more than his fair share of veiled insults to confuse the tone.  He wasn't exactly close with Mizuho, but he didn't think he had ever given her reason to dislike him… had he?  "Uhhh, no, thank you, Mizuho," Kisuke said, still a little thrown by her words.  "I'll do it myself."

 

"Very well," Mizuho said, giving him a curt bow.  She remained rooted in place, her dark blue eyes focused on him.

 

Kisuke took that as his cue to start gathering his school things, any chance of actually asking Yoruichi what was going now looking slim; he doubted they could speak freely with Mizuho present.  As he piled up his scattered notes and sealed his inkwells, he could feel the handmaiden's hawk-like eyes on him, watching his every move.  By the time Kisuke was done packing his school bag, he was certain there must have been a pair of twin holes burned through his back.

 

He shouldered the bag, about to make himself scarce and escape Mizuho's –quite frankly creepy- gaze, when Yoruichi stepped out of her room.  She had changed into one of her many identical outfits, a white tanktop and pleated black hakama, suitable for physical training.  As she pulled her hair up into a ponytail, securing it with her trademark white and red hairtie, she came to a halt, taking in the scene before her.

 

"Where are you going?" she asked Kisuke, frowning.

 

"Uhh, I was—"

 

"Lord Urahara was returning to his quarters," Mizuho said.

 

"Why don't you keep me company until Master Kirinji gets here?" Yoruichi said, giving her ponytail a swing with the back of her hand and stepping into the living room.

 

"Lord Urahara surely has better things to do—"

 

"He also has a mouth," Yoruichi told Mizuho in a sharp tone.  "And I'm quite certain he is perfectly capable of using it, too.  Kisuke?  Can you stay?"

 

Kisuke looked from Yoruichi to Mizuho and back again, terribly confused.  The elderly woman was staring at him with open, unabashed disapproval.  "Uhhhh… sure," Kisuke said, looking at Yoruichi again.  "I'll stay."

 

Yoruichi turned to Mizuho, one hand resting on her hip.  " _Thank you_ , Mizuho.  You may be excused."

 

The handmaiden pursed her lips into a tight line, pausing for just a fraction of a moment before bowing deeply before her mistress.  "As the Princess wishes," she said, then shuffled away on her platform shoes, but not before taking one last look at them.  Bowing once again, she stepped outside and shut the door behind her.

 

"Okay, ummm," Kisuke said the second the door was closed.  "Explain, please?  Why was Mizuho staring at me like I just crawled out of the bowels of Hell?"

 

Yoruichi let out a sigh, toying with one of the loose strands of hair around her face.  "I've been meaning to tell you," she began, guilt written all over her face.  "It just never felt like the right time."

 

"Tell me what?"

 

"I've been assigned a new instructor, Kirinji Tenjirou," she said, in a tone that suggested this was a name he was supposed to be familiar with.  When there was no sign of recognition on his face, she spoke again.  "You know… Sentouki?"

 

Now _that_ , was indeed a name he recognized, or rather a title.  The Captain of the Fourth Division, a phenomenal healer the likes of which had never before been seen, was more colloquially known as Sentouki, the Hot Spring Demon.  He was also the owner of another moniker, that of—

 

"Lighting Tenjirou," Kisuke said, mouth agape.  "Oh wow, you're getting Flash Step lessons?"

 

Yoruichi nodded, the fidgeting of her hair intensifying.  He understood now why she had been so hesitant to tell him; though he had no business nor reason to attend her other private lessons, they had always been grouped together in anything combat-related, as the two most advanced students of their class.  The fact that this was the first he heard of Captain Kirinji meant that he was not meant to participate. 

 

"Well," Kisuke said, hiding his disappointment behind a forced smile.  "If you're going to be instructed by anyone in the subject, he's definitely the man to go with.  Don't tell me you're not thrilled?"

 

"I am," Yoruichi said, shrugging.  "I just… I didn't know if—"

 

"Man, I'm jealous," he said, interrupting her.  "You don't have to hold out you know, you can brag."          

 

"I wasn't—"

 

"Of course, this means I get to go take a nap by the koi pond while you slave away in the sun," he continued, putting on a smirk.  "Pity."

 

"I— Yeah.  I guess," Yoruichi said, forcing a smile on her lips. 

 

_This is ridiculous,_ Kisuke thought.  _She shouldn't have to feel guilty about this.  If anyone should, it's me; I've been bored out of my mind lately and she can barely breathe with everything they've been piling on her._   Still, he couldn't deny he wouldn't have loved the prospect of a shared lesson; the man was a legend, and Flash Steps had always been one of the future lessons Kisuke had been looking forward to the most.  The thought of studying the subject without Yoruichi was a disappointment, but they still had their Kidou lessons, even though they had lost some of their appeal ever since Tessai had left to join the Kidou Corps.  Their current instructor, Master Shimizu, was a highly skilled and knowledgeable woman, but her methods of teaching were far more traditional when compared to Tessai's creative, hands-on approach. 

 

Kisuke was spared from any further conversation by the knock on the door; he wasn't certain if he would have been able to keep masking his disappointment for much longer.  Arching both eyebrows at Yoruichi in a show of excitement, he motioned toward the door.  "Must be him," he said.

 

Yoruichi walked over to the door and pulled it open, revealing the most outrageous-looking man Kisuke had ever seen.  Though he was clad in the traditional Captain uniform of black robes and white haori, the rest of his appearance was anything but.  He was extremely tall and lean, his black hair styled into a shiny, gigantic pompadour that seemed to defy all laws of physics.  The look was tied together by a pair of razor-edged sideburns, and the most blasé expression Kisuke had ever seen.  Yoruichi's eyes widened slightly as she took in the sight, but she was far too well-bred to let utter shock show on her face.

 

Captain Kirinji met her gaze head on, arms folded before his chest.  "You the Princess?" he said, and it was only then that Kisuke noticed the huge, slim twig sticking out of his mouth.

 

"Uhhh, yes.  Hello," Yoruichi muttered.

 

Captain Kirinji gave her a sharp nod.  "Name's Kirinji Tenjirou.  I'll answer to Captain or Master Kirinji, or Sentouki or just whatever combination of the three you wanna come up with.  You ready to get goin'?" he said, the stick wedged in his teeth moving with every word; it was almost hypnotizing.

 

"Yes.  Uhhh… sir," Yoruichi said, regarding him not unlike one would an exotic animal; with curiosity and just a touch of wariness.  "I mean Captain Sentouki.  Er, I mean—"

 

"Okay, okay, don't hurt yourself, kid.  We'll work on the name," Caprain Kirinji said, his eyes falling inside the apartment for the first time.  "Who's Blondie?"

 

"He's—"

 

"Just leaving," Kisuke said, approaching the door.  "It is an honor to meet you, Captain Kirinji," he said, giving the man a bow.  "Have a good lesson," he told Yoruichi, giving her a smile, then excused himself and stepped out into the corridor.

 

The way back to his and his mother's apartment felt like it took forever.  When left alone with his thoughts, time seemed to slow down, and every single feeling he had tried to stifle in Yoruichi's presence suddenly made itself known.

 

There was a pattern here, one he could not believe he hadn't identified until just now: Mrs. Fujiwara placing them on separate groups more and more often, Yoruichi's new classes, his exclusion from Master Kirinji's lessons, Mizuho's efforts to send him away.  When separated, each incident would have been of little concern, but when placing them side by side, he saw the common denominator staring at him in the face. 

 

As Yoruichi grew into a young woman, she would be expected to live up to her responsibilities to her clan.  Her life was changing.  

 

And every single person close to her was making it clear that Kisuke no longer had a place in it. 

 

****

* * *

 

 

**AUGUST 15 TH, 170 B.H.I., SHIHOUIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS - AFTERNOON**

 

 

Certain she was coming down with something, Kaede rubbed her aching forehead, nearly weeping at the piles of paperwork still stacked on the table before her.  Even though she had been hard at work for hours, separating them, there were still so many resumes to slog through, it was disheartening.  As part of her duties to Lord Shihouin, she had been delegated the task of performing a first and thorough pass of all the candidates that would be considered as future researchers in the Vault.  Most of the resumes were applications the clan had received, but a few of the candidate profiles were the result of scouting.  In order to be taken to Lord Shihouin for consideration, the final stack should measure no more than twenty total.

 

_Out of three hundred,_ Kaede thought, sighing.

 

"Mom?"

 

Kaede paused from her work just long enough to glance at her son.

 

Arms circling a stack of his closed textbooks, Kisuke was resting his chin on top of a particularly large volume.  Kaede spared one quick look at the haphazardly strewn notes, inkwells and brushes that occupied the other half of his side of the desk.  More than often, she had wondered whether the chaotic state of his personal space was a reflection of what went on inside his head.  She might have taken this opportunity to ask him – ** _Again_** \- to clean up, but when she turned to him, she found his eyes were wide and imploring, boring straight into her beneath a thick fringe of blond hair.  "Are you done?" he asked.

 

"Not quite," she said, a little taken aback by his strange expression.  "Are you all right?  Is there something you want to talk about?"

 

Kisuke shook his head.  "No.  Just wondering." 

 

"Have you finished your homework?" she asked. 

 

Kisuke nodded.  "Just some light reading left.  I'll do it later tonight." 

 

"Well… You can go outside if you want," she said.  Kisuke shook his head again.  _Now there's a rare sight,_ she thought.  Whenever Kisuke had nothing to occupy himself with, he could often be found lazing about, most likely staring outside a window, lost in his thoughts, or down by the maple tree next to the shrine, nose buried behind a book.  Watching him actually mope about his listlessness was a little unsettling; it made her feel like she would be remiss if she didn't probe any further.  "Are you _sure_ everything is fine?" she asked again.  "You're not falling ill, are you?" she said, reaching out to feel his forehead.   

 

Kisuke allowed her a split second's touch before he pulled his head away gently.  "I'm not," he said, giving her a semi-disparaging look laced with a grin; it was no doubt aimed at her mollycoddling.  "I really was just wondering.  Go back to your work." 

 

Kaede gave him one last, perplexed gaze before turning back to the small mountain of resumes before her.   Her eyes skimmed over scroll after scroll of near-identical candidates.  Advanced placement upon entering the academy, stellar grades through-out all six years of studies, and even a smattering of early graduates.  Every single one of the records she had so far gone through would have impressed any prospective employer, even some with particularly high standards, but Kaede's time in the Shihouin estate had skewed her perception of said standards.  What she might have once deemed perfectly acceptable was now inadequate.   It was difficult not to feel a little hypocritical as she went through one scroll after the other, knowing full well that her own qualifications were often inferior to those of the person she had just rejected.  _Then again, I wasn't hired to work at the Vault,_ she thought.

 

"Mom?"

 

Kaede peered at Kisuke over the rim of the scroll in her hands.  "Yes?"

 

"How about now?"

 

"Honestly, Kisuke, what—?" she began, before she heard his stomach growl in protest.  She was a little startled to discover her own stomach felt uncomfortably empty.  "Oh dear, what time is it?"

 

"Almost two thirty," Kisuke said, a look of relief washing over him.

 

Though they had tried their best to adjust to the schedule every resident of the estate followed religiously, Kaede and Kisuke had had an unspoken agreement to keep as many of their old habits as they could.  Lunch was delivered to their quarters at exactly 1 p.m. to coincide with the time Kisuke's classes ended on weekdays, but they never ate before at least 2 p.m.  She knew their little tradition wreaked havoc with Asuka's deeply ingrained sense of duty; her loyal handmaiden would always insist she stay until they were ready to be served, but Kaede dismissed her every day for the afternoon, assuring her they could serve themselves when hungry.  If left to her own devices, Kaede might not have even looked up from her work until sundown, but ever since she had become a mother, she had struggled to keep a set schedule for her son's sake; she didn't want him to adopt some of her worse habits.

 

"I didn't even realize…" she said, shaking her head and putting the scroll aside.  "Why didn't you say anything?"

 

"You were busy," Kisuke said, shrugging. 

 

"Go get the plates, please, I'll clear up the table," she said, filling her arms with as many scrolls as she could carry. 

 

She was in the middle of returning Kisuke's school supplies to his bookcase, all the while wondering how he had yet again gotten her to clean up after him without so much as a word, when there was a knock on their door.  Setting the pot of tea down at the table, Kisuke made his way over to the door, after sharing a puzzled look with his mother; getting a visitor at this hour was a rare occurrence.  _Oh no, please tell me I'm not being summoned for a report,_ Kaede thought.Shihouin Ken'ichi lunched with his family at precisely 1 p.m., took a break until 2, then promptly returned to work.  Though he hardly ever called on his employees before 4 p.m., insisting that they rest and spend time with their families, it wasn't completely unheard of for him to check up on them every now and then. Kaede bit her lip as Kisuke opened the door, hoping it wasn't one of Lord Shihouin's personal guards.

 

To her relief, it was Princess Yoruichi.  There was an odd, furtive look in her eyes as they swept down both directions in the corridor, before they flitted back to Kisuke.  "Do you have food?" she asked, leaning close to him.

 

Kisuke stared at her for a second in silence before answering.  "…As a rule?"

 

The Princess rolled her eyes at him.  "It's unagi day," she said, as though that explained everything.

 

Apparently it did; Kisuke let out a chuckle at the sound of her words.  "Does your mother _still_ not know you hate unagi?"

 

"I've told her a million times!" the Princess said, throwing her hands up in exasperation.  "I don't know, maybe she was punishing me for something.  Maybe I gripped my fan wrong this morning, who the hell knows…" she muttered as she crossed her arms, sulking.  Bending forward a little, she took a glance indoors, meeting Kaede's gaze.  "Hello, Lady Urahara!" she said amiably, waving at her.

 

"Princess," Kaede said, giving her a nod and a smile.

 

Princess Yoruichi returned the smile, then turned to Kisuke again.  "Anyway, I told her I wasn't hungry, but I _am_ , so… have you had lunch yet?"

 

"Actually, we were about to.  Mom was just finishing up some work," Kisuke said, looking over his shoulder at Kaede tentatively.

 

Her shoulders drooping, the Princess folded her arms behind her back and adopted an expression of utter innocence, the kind one might associate with a fawn.  "I don't want to intrude if it's a problem…" she said.

 

_Oh for the love of— And here I thought **she** was the bad influence on **him** , _she thought, wondering if the Princess realized Kaede was practically immune to this look by now, having been on the receiving end for about a hundred and thirty years now.  Kisuke's eyes joined the Princess's in staring at her with soul-penetrating despair.  _All right, perhaps not entirely immune._  She was mentally transported back to the time when she'd caught them returning from a swim at the koi pond, drenched and bruised –they claimed a sling shot had somehow been involved- both grey and hazel eyes pleading with her not to tell Yoruichi's parents.  It didn't take long before she had caved.  After she was done healing them, the two children had spent the afternoon wrapped up in blankets and munching on biscuits by the fire, looking supremely pleased with themselves while Kaede gently combed and untangled the Princess's long mane of fine black hair.

 

Kaede smiled at the both of them, making every effort not to roll her eyes.  "Of course it's not a problem.  Please join us."

 

Clearly not wanting to push her luck, the Princess didn't bother asking again, sweeping past Kisuke at once.  "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she said, grinning broadly.  "You're not having unagi, too, are you?" she asked Kisuke.

 

Chuckling, Kisuke closed the door.  "No, it's futomaki for us," he said, grabbing a third plate before joining her and Kaede at the table.

 

With the Princess present, lunch was a much livelier affair than usual.  Kaede knew better than to ask about their schooling, so instead, she let them direct the conversation as she nursed her cup of green tea, laughing at the girl's anecdotes about the legendary Tenjirou Kirinji.  While listening to the easy, relaxed banter between her son and his best friend, she felt a sudden stab of nostalgia, once more recalling a time when she could capture their interest with a warm plate of biscuits and the promise of a gripping story.  Though she understood that the Princess could never truly be part of their little family, the fact that Kisuke used to spend nearly every waking hour by her side meant that Kaede was rather close to the girl, closer than would be deemed appropriate due to the social chasm separating them. 

 

While not over, those days were surely reaching an end as Princess Yoruichi grew closer to adulthood.  Kaede had trouble enough being affectionate with her son without him rolling his eyes at her, much less a girl who wasn't her own blood.  Additionally, the Princess's time was not her own anymore; the future head of the Shihouin clan could not afford to be as lackadaisical as Kisuke was with his free time.  Kaede knew that one day, not far from today, one of the Princess's casual visits would be her last and the notion alone pained her.  She couldn't even begin to imagine what it would do to Kisuke.

 

Gaze trained on her son, she observed him as he laughed at one of the Princess's jokes.  She couldn't remember the last time she had seen Kisuke give anyone other than Yoruichi his full and undivided attention.  Grinning from ear to ear, he was resting his cheek on his balled fist as she continued to gesticulate wildly in her impression of Tenjirou Kirinji.  His eyes stayed locked upon her face for the entirety of the conversation, occasionally seeking out the Princess's own, when they weren't lingering on her cheek, her lips, and sometimes flitting toward the long column of her neck.  There was no word to describe the look on his face other than enraptured. 

 

Kaede's heart was suddenly freefalling down to her stomach, the sweet, post-meal lethargy instantly drained out of every cell of her body.  For the remainder of the Princess's stay, she didn't utter another word, trying in vain to convince herself that she had reached the wrong conclusion, but every single move Kisuke subconsciously made broadcasted his feelings to the world, loud and clear.  Her son was putty in the Princess's capable hands, and the reason was plain as day; aside from all her qualities that had appealed to him enough to forge a friendship with her, she was also exceptionally good-looking.  Though she was still on the cusp of womanhood, it wasn't difficult to picture how the long-limbed, dark-haired girl with the striking eyes would turn into a rare beauty in the future. 

 

When it was time for Princess Yoruichi to take her leave for her lesson with Captain Kirinji, Kaede watched her son linger by the threshold long after she had left their apartment, staring at the girl's parting form with a fond smile on his lips.  It was a while before he shut the door and walked back inside to help Kaede clear the table.  He was still in a good mood nearly an hour later as he skimmed through one of his textbooks.  Kaede was certain he wasn't reading a single word, but rather leafing through pages absently, his mind traveling elsewhere.

 

Urging herself to leave him be for now, Kaede was about to turn back to her own work, when her eyes fell upon a series of conspicuous black marks on Kisuke's book.  "Oh my.  Since when do you allow the desecration of books?" she asked.

 

As though yanked out from a particularly pleasant dream, Kisuke blinked at his mother for a few times, looking as though he was slowly processing her words.  "What?"

 

Kaede pointed at the page he was on, the margin of which was littered with scribbles.

 

"Oh," he said, chuckling.  "That's Yoruichi's handwriting."

 

"And a doodle," she said, squinting at the page.  There was an odd, beaker-like shape in between the kanji.  "Is that… a bottle of…?"

 

"Soy sauce," Kisuke said, grinning.  She likes old-man jokes." 

 

Beneath the Princess's drawing was another one, clearly drawn by a different hand; the two sets of strokes were vastly different.  Kaede assumed the follow-up was Kisuke's creation.  Looking at it more carefully, she deduced it was meant to be a sketch of himself wearing a scarf.  Inexplicably, his drawing was followed by yet another one, Yoruichi's by the look of it, of a loaf of bread clad in underpants.  _…What?  What is that even supposed to—?_ _Am I getting too old to follow modern humor?_   "Well… I'm glad to see you two pay attention in class."

 

Kisuke rolled his eyes at her.  "It was a lecture on feudal architecture."

 

Kaede refilled her cup with tea, dropping the subject, but her eyes lingered on Kisuke still.  The reasonable part of her was insisting that talking to Kisuke right now about her worries was a natural transition, and getting it out of the way sooner rather than later would spare him a great deal of future pain, the kind she was all too familiar with.  Her more emotional side, however, was making a strong case for staying quiet, giving the situation some time to see how it would develop, as she hoped he would soon outgrow the infatuation.  

 

Her dilemma came to an end when Kisuke, picking up on her intent scrutiny, placed his book down and looked at her.  "I get the feeling you're not quite done," he said, effectively making the decision for her.

 

Sighing, Kaede tried to think of the best way to get her point across without hurting his feelings, or making it seem like she was encroaching on his personal life.  "It's nothing— I… I just noticed you still call the Princess by her first name."

 

For a moment, Kisuke's face registered nothing but confusion. "The Prin—? Oh," he said, realizing she meant Yoruichi.  "Well… yes.  She's my best friend."

 

Kaede nodded, thumbs worrying the rim of her teacup.  "And is that something that happens when a third party is present?  Other than myself, I mean."

 

This time, the reaction was instant.  "I'm not an idiot," Kisuke said, frowning, his whole body growing rigid.

 

"I know that."

 

"And I know _that_.  So why not ask whatever it is you want to ask directly?"

 

_Did I accidentally hit a nerve?  I've barely even said anything,_ Kaede thought, quite frankly astonished at his hostile response.  "You don't have to get defensive."

 

At the sound of her words, something must have stirred within Kisuke and he seemed to realize he had overreacted.  The hard lines of his face immediately relaxed, the tension in his shoulders lessening.  "I'm not.  Just curious as to why you're asking."

 

Kaede pursed her lips, bracing herself for what she was certain was going to be an awkward, difficult conversation.  "I just… want to make certain you realize that…" she trailed off, searching for the right way to put her thoughts into words.  "It was different when you were children.  In a few years, Yoruichi will have to face responsibilities that you will not."

 

"Again, you're not telling me something I don't know.  What does it have to do—?"

 

"You cannot maintain the same relationship you have right now," Kaede said in a rush, eager to put the worst of the truth behind her and work on softening the blow for Kisuke.  As soon as the words left her mouth, however, she instantly regretted them; Kisuke's expression might as well have been a mask of stone, if not for the flash of pain that swept through his eyes for a spell.  It went way quickly, but it had lingered long enough to cut through her like a knife.

 

 "I see," Kisuke said, after a long pause.

 

"Do you?  Sometimes I think… It's not just with Yoruichi; I think you've been getting closer to Lord Shihouin as well, and—"

 

The frown that had clouded his features before returned full force, and suddenly, Kisuke seemed to have grown a few decades within seconds.  "How about we stop pretending we're talking about the Shihouin clan?"

 

"What?"

 

"This is about _our_ clan," Kisuke said, his voice more bitter than she'd ever heard it.  "And how they treated you like dirt all those years before we moved here."

 

Kaede thought she had predicted all possible outcomes of their conversation, each more unpleasant than the next, but this turn of events was beyond anything she could have imagined.  Not only was she stunned Kisuke had made the connection, she was shocked to hear him verbalize something that even she and her husband had avoided confronting directly.  Kaede herself had never been against such a discussion, but Takehiko had always been far too ashamed of his own family's treatment of his wife to acknowledge it openly.  Instead, he had shielded her and their budding family as best he could, while showering them both with love while pretending all the bad blood between the two sides didn't exist.  Kaede had never faulted him for this behavior; for all its naiveté, it had kept their family together, kept them focused on the bonds of that kept them together, rather than any outside forces which tried to tear them apart.

 

It was the conviction with which Takehiko had held on to this illusion that had pushed Kaede to keep it alive for their son, determined not to let him face the sting of such rejection.  She should have known any such effort on her part was futile; Kisuke was far too perceptive not to have picked up on the palpable tension that hung in the air every time the Urahara clan came together.  She had known, of course, that there was no love lost between her son and her in-laws, but she had always assumed it was the result of their failure to understand him, not their disdain for her.   

 

It seemed her thoughts were mirrored on her face, as Kisuke arched an eyebrow, giving her a wry grin.  "Oh, you thought I couldn't tell?  I was a child, not a brainless fool," he said.  "Our _beloved_ clan's handle on the issue of class is about a subtle as a stampede.  I knew _exactly_ why they hated you and why dad took you away from that nest of vipers in the first place."

 

Kaede rubbed one of her temples, eager to change the course of discussion.  "Then learn from _his_ mistake and don't—"

 

"You think dad saw you as a _mistake_?"

 

"No," Kaede said firmly.  "But it was naïve of him to think our marriage wouldn't cause problems with his clan, that they would eventually accept us and move on."

 

"Yoruichi's parents already know we're friends," Kisuke said.  "They've never expressed the slightest—"

 

"And they won't, not unless you give them a reason to."

 

Kisuke's frown deepened at the sound of her words.  "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

 

Kaede had hoped that she wouldn't have to say this openly, but for all his perceptiveness, Kisuke was still a young man, very likely in denial about how he felt.  There was no way to broach the subject other than plain honesty.  "You know I adore Yoruichi.  I do.  She's a lovely girl and I've always been glad you two became such good friends, but… I hope you understand that you cannot… No matter how she may feel in the future, you will never…"

 

Kisuke's expression remained unchanged, clearly not following her train of thought.

 

"She can only ever be your friend," Kaede forced herself to say, her cheeks turning redder as she spoke; she had hoped to avoid conversations of such a nature for a few more decades.  "And even such a relationship will have to be maintained from a distance."

 

"All this because I call her by her given name?"

 

"Don't.  You know what I'm talking about."

 

"I'm fairly certain I don't."

 

In a monumental victory for the nature side of the nature versus nurture debate, Kisuke was once more channeling his father in stubbornness, despite having so little memory of him, Kaede mused.  Matching the defiant look in his eyes, she took a deep breath and prepared herself for what she had to say next.  "I've watched you interact with that girl for seventy years.  I am not blind; I have seen the shift in your behavior.  I'm not saying I don't understand.  She's a kind girl, she shares your sense of humor and she's beautiful—"

 

Within milliseconds, understanding _finally_ , mercifully dawned on Kisuke.  His jaw dropping, he regarded his mother as though she had gone insane.  "Are you _seriously—_ "

 

"The way you look at her—"

 

"I hadn't seen her in ages!" Kisuke protested.  "You _know_ we don't get to spend as much time as we used to.  It didn't mean—"

 

"All I want is to protect you from future heartache—" Kaede hurried to say, but Kisuke was just getting started.

 

"I think I've had enough _protectiveness_ to last me seven lifetimes," he said, holding out his palm.  "I didn't need to be _protected_ from the clan idiots who couldn't handle their own damn inferiority complex.  And I certainly don't need to be _protected_ because you heard me call my best friend by her name and started making wild assumptions."

 

"Please don't—"

 

"And you know what?" Kisuke said, getting up.  "Dad might've been _naïve_ ," he said, his eyes narrowing at her resentfully as he spoke the last word.  "But he still had the guts to tell the whole lot of them to go fuck themselves—"

 

"Kisuke!"

 

"—and chose you no matter what they thought.  I _like_ spending time with Lord Shihouin," he said, one hand pointing at his chest.  "I understand exactly who he is and who Iam to him, but he treats me with _respect._ And Yoruichi is my _friend_.  If I have to sacrifice anyone's approval, her father's or even yours to stay her friend, then so be it."

 

Not waiting for any sort of response to his speech, Kisuke marched out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him without so much as a second look to her.  The silence that followed his departure was the most deafening sound Kaede had ever heard.    

 

* * *

 

 

**AUGUST 15 TH, 170 B.H.I., SHIHOUIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS - EVENING**

 

 

Kisuke stormed down the corridor, hands shaking, lips pursed; he feared that if he so much as opened his mouth to breathe, the fury bubbling within him would spill out in torrents.

 

He didn't know what had upset him the most: his mother's persistence at feigning ignorance when it came to the Urahara clan, or her asinine suggestion about his relationship with Yoruichi.   _She will never change,_ he thought, shaking his head.  Her over-protectiveness, an endearing, if somewhat annoying tendency for the mother of a child was now unacceptable when it came to parenting someone well into adolescence.  With every passing second he spent outside the stifling atmosphere of the apartment, he came to regret his outburst little by little, but he remained adamant that he'd had to stand firm if he wanted their relationship to evolve.  The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him; he had chosen to say a few harsh truths to spare them any similar future problems.

 

It wasn't until he reached the ground outside, his socks soaking up the moisture of the grass, that he realized he hadn't even had the presence of mind to put on his sandals.  Letting out a mirthless chuckle, fingers raking through his hair, he slowed his pace, looking for a quiet place where he could cool down and collect his thoughts.  Not wanting to run into Yoruichi mid-lesson, he decided to avoid the grounds in front of the estate and headed down toward the koi pond, hoping to find it deserted.

 

Whatever cosmic forces had brought forth today's turn of events seemed to have lost any interest in tormenting him further and thankfully, by the time he got to the pond he was well and truly alone.  It was no wonder Lord Shihouin favored this area of the castle whenever he wished to take a break from his many responsibilities; as the sun glowed, red and bright behind the mountains in the distance, and twilight approached, there was an eerie, near-supernatural stillness in the atmosphere, though it was far from unsettling. 

 

Kisuke strolled over to the wooden bridge that spanned the width of the strait connecting the two halves of the large pond.  In less than half an hour, the enchanted lanterns peppering the railing would light up, casting a candle-like light upon the dark, small lake.  Kisuke sat down on the gleaming, perfectly sanded wood, letting his legs drop over the side of the bridge.  Head peeking between two wooden rails, he stared at the water, only barely making out the shapes of the fat koi swimming within.  Pressing his head against one rail, he let the cicadas' song lull him to serenity; he hated the damn things with a passion –all insects really- but he couldn't deny their melody was an indisputable, welcome part of summer. 

 

Try as he might, however, he couldn't find peace.  It was easy to overlook his mother's more outlandish claims, like his alleged attachment to Lord Shihouin, but there was something she had said, right at the beginning, that he couldn't deny had been tormenting him lately.  With each passing year, as Yoruichi grew into her future role as head of the family, forces within the estate, both subtle and not, were intruding in their friendship.  Where they had once been grouped together for private lessons as advanced students, Yoruichi was now being tutored in subjects he had been politely informed he had no place in.  Seeing as he'd never expected preferential treatment in the first place, the kind that the Lord's daughter alone was privy to, he wouldn't have found it odd if it hadn't kept happening during their regular classes as well.  He hadn't failed to notice that whenever a group project was assigned, Mrs. Fujiwara very deliberately avoided his eye while forming groups, nearly always placing Kisuke and Yoruichi apart.

 

Aside from the obvious difference in terms of social status, Kisuke had to wonder whether his mother's suggestion, no matter how far removed from truth, held some weight after all.  Even if _he_ wasn't romantically attracted to Yoruichi, it didn't mean others hadn't misunderstood their relationship.  It was admittedly rare for two such close friends to belong to opposite sexes, and as they grew older, their intimacy _was_ bound to raise more than a few eyebrows.

 

_I hate this,_ he thought, letting out a sigh.  _Just because they refuse to consider anything that challenges their sterile, preconceived notions I have to lose my best friend?_       

 

The situation was getting dire enough that he briefly considered talking to Yoruichi about it, but he immediately discarded the thought.  Heavens above, how was he supposed to so much as look at her again without flashing back to the ridiculous discussion he'd had with his mother?  He suspected they'd share a good laugh if he came clean about what had been said, and it _could_ possibly help him move past any lingering awkwardness, but he feared that even starting such a conversation might lead to acknowledging the uncomfortable truth that they were being pulled apart.  Perhaps if he focused on the ludicrous aspects of the talk she would be too busy laughing with him to probe any further.

 

_Hey, you wouldn't **believe** what my mother just told me!  She thinks I have a crush on you.  Haha, I know, right?  I mean, just because we're good friends and… y'know, you look the way you do.  What way?  Well… you know.  Like you do.  Attractive.  You're an attractive girl.  What?  I can admit as much.  _

 

He wasn't blind, after all.  Any heterosexual young man his age would be lying if he claimed he didn't find Yoruichi good-looking.  More than that, she was not only interesting, but great company as well.  She had a wicked sense of humor, despite her unhealthy attachment to old man jokes.  It was a shame most people would only fixate on her looks when she had so much more to offer.  He supposed it couldn't be helped.  She was _quite_ pretty, which could easily make someone overlook the rest of the package.  Striking, really.  Though there were other, far more well-endowed girls their age in the castle, she had a svelte, graceful figure that had always reminded him of a feline.  Beautiful eyes, too.  Lovely hazel, though sometimes, when the light fell just so, it brought out the darker flecks in her irises, making them appear nearly golden.  He had to admit he had a weakness for her hair, as well; it was probably a direct result of his disdain for blond hair –a link to the Urahara clan he would carry with him forever, so he had always been partial to darker hair.  And hers was particularly well-cared for, black like ink, dark like her name.  Her parents had displayed a near-prophetic sense when they had chosen it; he had never met anyone who personified nightfall quite like Yoruichi did, not only in appearance, but also in disposition: cryptic, elusive, with dark hair and skin, eyes standing out like a pair of glittering stars.  The Night One, indeed.

 

Frowning, Kisuke brought his mental tirade to a screeching halt, wondering why on earth he was parroting back to himself things he already knew and had long ago observed about Yoruichi.  Shaking his head, he placed his hands on one wooden rail each, letting out a sigh. 

 

_"She can only ever be your friend.  And even such a relationship will have to be maintained from a distance."_

**_Only_** , he scoffed.  _She talked as if that's supposed to be a consolation prize.  It's not like I confessed to her and had to settle for being her friend.  That's not settling.  And I'm not about to confess anyway.  Confess what?_

_"I'm not saying I don't understand.  She's a kind girl, she shares your sense of humor and she's beautiful."_

     

_And?  What's **that** supposed to mean?  Yes, she's both great and stunning.  That doesn't mean I have no choice but to fall in love with her, like an idiot.  Not that anyone who fell for her would be an idiot, of course.  It's just that… I'm not.  I haven't.  I can admit I find her gorgeous **and** be her friend.  It's not impossible.  Honestly, mom still thinks relationships are the way they were when she was young.  Things have changed.  I can be her friend.  I **am** her friend.  It's not even worth wasting time and effort trying to—_

"Kisuke?"

 

"NOTHING!" he nearly screeched, as the voice behind him startled him out of his reverie.  Looking over his shoulder, he found Yoruichi standing behind him, staring at him in concern.  How had she even gotten there without him noticing?

 

"…What?" she said, her brow knit.

 

"Uhhh… hi.  Sorry," Kisuke said, still clutching onto the rails.  "Thought you said something else."

 

Yoruichi took a few tentative steps forward, crouching down next to him.  By now, nighttime had fallen.  As she moved into the range of the lantern, he saw there was a thin film of sweat covering her skin.  A cool summer breeze blew behind them, carrying the musky scent of her perspiration, mixed with the sweeter smell of the jasmine oil in her hair.  He was suddenly very _aware_ of her presence, in a way that made the already uncomfortable situation developing in his head even more so. 

 

"Are you okay?" she asked.

 

"I'm fi—" he began, his voice shamefully high-pitched.  Feeling his cheeks burn, he cleared his throat loudly before speaking again.  "Fine."  _Get it together._

 

Yoruichi regarded him in a way befitting of a small, skittish animal.

 

Before she had the chance to ask or say anything that would make the situation even more awkward, Kisuke spoke first.  "What are you doing all the way out here?  Aren't you training with Kirinji?"

 

"I was.  Still am," Yoruichi said.  "He's having me chain my Flash Steps, build up my stamina."

 

"At this hour?  It's getting pretty dark."

 

"Tell me about it," Yoruichi said, scrunching up her nose.  She took a seat right next to him, stretching her legs once before letting them drop by the side of the bridge as well.  She tilted her long neck from side to side, closing her eyes and letting out a soft, pleasurable moan when there was an audible crick.  Kisuke decided the universe had abandoned all pretense of coyness and was now openly, unabashedly toying with him.  "He says I need to stop staring at my feet when I land, so he's having me practice by night.  Nearly sprained my ankle out there," Yoruichi said, pointing toward the grass a few feet away from the koi pond.  "And then I saw—" she said, coming to a sudden stop when their eyes met.

 

_Me. Moping about.  Great._   

 

Kisuke averted his eyes, trying to appear nonchalant as he stared at the pond.  Every now and then, he caught sight of an orange or white tail, as the koi swam merrily below them.  Suddenly, there was a sweep of dark hair in his peripheral vision as Yoruichi slipped her head out between two rails, trying to make eye-contact again.  Kisuke met her gaze, frowning at the impish look on her face.  "W-what?"

 

"I have a question for you," she said.

 

_Nice going.  You **totally** threw her off the scent, looking like that.  She cannot possibly suspect a thing._  "Yes?" Kisuke said, bracing for the worst.

 

"What does a tarantula taste like?"

 

"W-wha…?"

 

Grinning, Yoruichi answered her own question before he had even began to form a coherent thought.  "Su-pa-i-da."

 

Silence fell between them, Yoruichi staring at him expectantly.  Kisuke could only blink his eyes, repeating her words in his head.  _What does a tarantula taste like?  Supaida._   _Supai?  It's… sour?  Su-pa-i— Oh. **Oh.** Ugh, for the love of—_ Unable to help himself, he let out a loud snort, biting down on his lip to keep himself from laughing.  It didn't work.

 

Yoruichi joined in, guffawing the way she always did whenever she delivered one of her signature jokes.

 

"That was _terrible_ ," Kisuke said, still chuckling.  " _You're_ terrible," he teased, turning to look at her.

 

Yoruichi matched his playful smirk.  "Better rid you of my terrible presence then," she said.

 

"Yeah, go back to your lesson," he said, motioning toward the estate with his head.

 

Yoruichi nodded, standing up.  "Need another joke?" she asked, leaning over him, the soft light of the lanterns reflected on her eyes.

 

_Golden._

 

Kisuke shook his head.  "Nah, I'm good."

  
"Okay then… See you tomorrow?"

 

"See you."

 

Face contorted in concentration, Yoruichi took a deep breath and Flash Stepped away, leaving only the lingering scent of jasmine oil in her wake.

 

As he closed his eyes, head leaning back against the rail, Kisuke took in a deep breath.  By the time he opened them again, he knew he was in serious trouble.

 

 

* * *

 

 

****

**APRIL 23 RD, 1909 A.D., KARAKURA TOWN, JAPAN – 11 A.M.**

 

The reason behind the appearance of the two Hollows in Karakura town still eluded Kisuke, two days after the incident.  The copy of the latest census he had acquired from city hall sat on the table in front of him, all two thousand fifty three names crossed out.  Ever since they had made Karakura Town their residence, Kisuke had been careful to monitor the population closely for any signs of blooming spiritual powers. The grand total of spiritually aware humans in Karakura was the same as it had been eight years ago: one.  Koizumi Haruka, their next door neighbor, who could potentially move to Tokyo in a few months, as she was currently engaged to a lawyer from the city.  In all one hundred and thirty six years of Kisuke's experience as a Death God, he had not once seen a single Hollow drawn to the small amount of power the young woman had, much less two moderately powerful ones.

 

The incident was an anomaly. 

 

As someone who had built a career upon creating complex systems and performing exhaustive tests to eliminate the possibility of such anomalies, Kisuke's reaction to the situation had not been pretty.  Both Tessai and Yoruichi understood he was to be avoided whenever they passed through the foyer, so they kept a wide berth from the tiny ball of frustration and anger he had coiled himself into as he struggled to solve the problem.  Once or twice, a plate of food had been quietly slipped on the table and was mostly ignored for hours upon end, and when he had fallen asleep on the mountain of paperwork he had amassed, a thin blanket had been placed upon his shoulders to keep him warm.  He was grateful for the concern, but knew himself well enough not to try and put his appreciation into words until he was free of the gnawing mystery. 

 

His biggest problem was a lack of any empirical data, which left him with no options to explore other than guesswork.  And Kisuke loathed guessing.  When he didn't know, he asked, he researched, but he never guessed unless it couldn't be helped.  There was far too large a margin of error, and brainstorming was only ever fun if it had an aim and a solid foundation to work from.  Shooting conjectures into the void and trying to follow the questions that sprang forth, unspooling like thread, had always done nothing but render him into his current state. 

 

There were only two tried and true methods that could help him get some peace of mind once that happened.  The first one, getting some distance from the problem and returning at a later time, was a natural conclusion he had come to himself long ago, as he could only ignore his own body's need for rest and nutrition for so long before he collapsed.  The second, while similar in spirit, involved exertion rather than respite and had only become an option after he had gotten into a relationship with Yoruichi; she was the only person whose presence held enough power over him to drive him to distraction. 

 

Unfortunately, neither remedy was an acceptable choice at the moment.  This wasn't a curious little conundrum he had gotten himself into for his own amusement, but a problem that, if left unsolved, was a potential threat to them all.  Still, he had gotten trapped in his own head often enough to realize when he was close to a breaking point, so Kisuke decided to compromise and take a half-hour break.  A bowl of senbei crackers he hadn't noticed until now sat next to a cup of coffee he didn't remember making, he saw as he looked up; the cup was cold to the touch, as were its contents, a discovery he made upon draining it.  Grimacing at the coffee's staleness, he forced himself up to get some tea going; he still had a long way to go.  While the kettle boiled, he started clearing the table, thinking that getting a fresh start would be far more beneficial than staring at papers he already knew by heart for the thousandth time.

 

Once the table was cleared, he lowered himself onto the floor again to lie down, every single one of his vertebrae protesting to the change of position.  Kisuke winced, trying to make himself comfortable and relax.  Experience had taught him that trying to clear his mind was no use when he was so high-strung, so instead, he tried to steer his thoughts to any sort of mundane or harmless subject.

 

Briefly, he wondered where Yoruichi and Tessai were.  He couldn't recall hearing or seeing them at all since morning, and when reaching out, he found Tessai's presence to be faint, while Yoruichi's was non-existent.  Tessai was most likely working on the cavern spreading beneath the foundations of their home; little by little, they had been expanding it until it resembled a small-scale version of the training grounds it had been modelled after.  Yoruichi was either not at home, or prowling around as a cat.  Kisuke felt a small stab of guilt at the second possibility; while it was a form she enjoyed slipping into, she only ever employed it indoors when she was avoiding him after a fight, or at times when, much like today – _And yesterday, and the day before that-_ he was being insufferable.

 

_So much for trying to focus elsewhere,_ he thought ruefully, as he found himself back to square one.

 

Groaning, he rubbed the balls of his hands against his stinging eyes.   _Two Hollows, no reasonable target.  Conclusion?  Coincidence.  "And what do we say about coincidence?"_ his mother would often ask.  He had repeated the question and the answer so many times during these past two days, that they no longer resembled words, but had become a sort of mantra instead.  "The universe is rarely so lazy," he muttered, peering at the dark brown beams on the ceiling through half-open eyes.  _Counterpoint: all systems seek the lowest energy state.  So lazy, yes, but not random, never random.  The only way to determine why a particle moves the way it does is to aggregate over every particle in said system, so go back, back to the basics, **always** back to the basics.  What are Hollows drawn to?  Spiritually powerful humans.  No, no.  Simplify.   Spiritual **power** ; humans are just the easy target.  The only other options are myself, Yoruichi and Tessai.  Could it be the barrier itself?  Is it faulty?  Can't be, we only just reapplied it three days ago.  Another Death God, then?  Could it be Hirako's group?  Are they—?_

 

Kisuke's train of thought was interrupted by the growing awareness that someone, a person of moderate spiritual power, was approaching.  Upon first inspection, the signature didn't seem to belong to anyone he knew, but with closer proximity came recognition.  In fact, the person approaching wasn't a single entity at all, but rather two people, whom he had met in the loosest of terms just two days ago.

 

_The rookie Death Gods,_ he realized, sitting up abruptly.   _What the **hell** are they still doing here?  The boy was fit enough for travel, both Hollows are gone.  Why haven't they left yet?_ _And why are they heading straight—?_

 

Getting up to his feet as fast as he could, Kisuke sprinted to the storage room and quickly slipped into his gigai.  Normally, he would feel confident that nothing could penetrate Tessai's barrier, but if recent events were any indication, perhaps they had miscalculated when reapplying it after all.  His spiritual pressure now completely cloaked, he hurried over to the front of the store to hide behind the display cases of merchandize.  He reached out once quickly, determining that Tessai was still where he'd last sensed him; thankfully, he seemed to have detected the newcomers as well, since his own spiritual power had been suppressed down to almost nothing.  As for Yoruichi, he knew needn't worry; he had yet to meet anyone who could operate under stealth better than she did.

 

Back glued against the hard wood of the display case, he kept perfectly still, keeping his ear trained toward the entrance.  There was the sound of approaching footsteps, then a rustle of leaves and a long pause, before he heard the first voice.

 

"I don't know!  Maybe we should just knock?" one of the two, the girl, whispered.

 

"Are you stupid or something?  They can't see us!"

 

"Am _I_ stupid?  If they can use high level healing spells, they have spiritual powers, shit-for-brains!"

 

"Then why did they run off, fartbreath?  It must've been an accident—"

 

"So, what, they just _accidentally_ healed the air around you and then took off, you butt-faced moron?"

 

"I bet you don't even have the right place.  Isane—"

 

"It's the right place!  The trail stops here!"

 

_The trail?_   Kisuke's brow creased into a frown at the sound of those words.  If he was understanding the meaning behind them correctly, the girl was insinuating that they had tracked a spell signature back to this place, and that was nigh impossible; either of the two young Death Gods was not nearly experienced enough to be able to do that. 

 

"Maybe we should just report this," the boy said.  "We don't even know who this person is!"

 

Kisuke let out a stream of curses under his breath.  First the Hollows and now this; this week was getting progressively worse with every passing second.  Deciding he had heard more than enough, Kisuke judged it was high time he revealed himself to the two Death Gods.  As much as he disliked entering the fray without a solid strategy, he could not risk the possibility of them returning to Soul Society and making their location known.  He would simply have to assess the situation carefully and formulate a plan on the spot.  One short Flash Step later, he found himself standing behind the bush the two young Death Gods had hidden within, his presence still undetected by either of them.

 

"…bet the Captain has _nothing_ better to do than—"

 

"Don't you bring the Captain into this!"

 

"Hello, there," Kisuke said amiably.  It was tempting to let the full weight of his spiritual pressure wash over them –it would certainly make coercion a walk in the park- but he had a feeling his chances of escaping this situation unscathed would be far better if he tried a gentler approach.

 

Still, the sound of a stranger's voice appearing out of thin air behind them must've startled the two kids, who let out strangled cries in unison and swiveled around to face him.

 

_Oh well.  I guess a **smidgen** of intimidation might work for now._  "Why don't we take this inside?" he said, hands folded behind his back, a smirk dancing on his lips. 

 

He had only meant to make it clear to both of them that running was not an option, but both the smirk and his suggestion seemed to have worked a little too well: the boy, hand trembling, immediately reached for his sword.  "Kiyone, run!" he cried, pulling the blade out of its sheath.

 

It was a brave course of action, and witnessing it made Kisuke feel a little guilty for what he had to do next.  As the boy lunged forward, Kisuke reached for the blade with his bare hand.  To impress upon him the futility of resisting, Kisuke allowed the boy one full second of utter disbelief, when the sword connected with his opponent's outspread palm but didn't make a single dent.  Kisuke twisted his wrist upside down, grasping the blade and giving it a sharp tug upwards.  The hilt slipped right out of the boy's slack hands and smacked him on the chin.  Kisuke let go of the sword as it swung in a graceful arc, spinning in mid-air, and reached out for the hilt.  The foreign Soul Cutter protested weakly once finding itself under the command of a stranger, but submitted to him without further objection, even though it was now trained upon its companion.  Kisuke held the point a hair's breadth away from the boy's neck, silently reiterating the message he'd tried to get across just seconds ago: running or fighting back was useless.

 

The young Death Gods seemed to have fully appreciated the difference between their powers and his at long last, both now too petrified to move or utter a single sound.

 

_All right, that's enough; I think they get it now,_ Kisuke thought, and took a small step back, rolling his eyes at the boy and girl before him.   "If I wanted to kill you, I could've done it while you were too busy arguing whether I can see you or not," he told them, flipping the sword again and offering it back to the boy, hilt-first.  "Follow me inside," he said, employing a tone of voice he hadn't used in a long time; it was the voice of a Captain of the Thirteen Divisions, and adopting it had not come easily to him in the first place.  For the longest time, he had tried to imitate the natural authority Yoruichi had always exuded when addressing her subordinates, but it had never worked for him.  It wasn't until he had grown comfortable in his position as a Captain that he had found his own voice, his own way of exerting authority, and had been pleasantly surprised with the results.  Even though he could count the times he'd had to use it in the palm of a single hand, it was almost eerie to realize just how easily he'd been able to slip back into it; the two Death Gods complied immediately.     

 

"See what you did?" he heard the girl whisper behind him.

 

"What _I_ did!"

 

"You and your loud voice!"

 

Pausing before the threshold of the shop, Kisuke turned to look at them over his shoulder.  "I'm not going to hurt you, so you can stop fighting over whose fault it was.  And it was both of you, actually.  You need to learn how to mask your spiritual pressure better," he said, pulling the front doors open.

 

Even without looking, he could sense the embarrassment of the two young people behind him, as they shuffled along into the store and were even courteous enough to close the doors behind them.  Kisuke kept up the façade of confidence, though he was quickly running out of ideas.  Intimidating them into following him indoors was the easy part.  _Now what?_   It was clear he had to find a way to keep them from including this queer turn of events in their report, but he had no idea how.  The full brunt of the two mostly sleepless days he had spent agonizing over the Hollow mystery hit him with the force of an avalanche, as he found himself unable to come up with even a simple plan.  His mental capacities were nearly exhausted at this point, and it was that more than anything else that was making him worry.  Massaging his throbbing temple, he decided that the wisest course of action was to stall for time and find out what had transpired two nights ago, as well as try to glean their intentions; panicking was not an option.

 

With his back turned to them still, Kisuke strode down the foyer and led them to the small living room area, motioning at them to sit down.  "Tea?" he said, making his way to the kitchen to retrieve the kettle he had previously set.

 

The two Death Gods shared a look of confusion; whatever it was they had expected to happen once they stepped into the store, this clearly wasn't it.  Kisuke said nothing else for the time being, giving them time to accept they were out of immediate danger.  When he returned with the fresh pot in hand, he made himself comfortable on one of the cushions and filled his own cup with piping hot green tea.  The smell alone did wonders to calm his nerves and help soothe his aching head.          

 

"It's not poisoned," Kisuke said, grinning at the two black-clad figures still standing frozen in the middle of the room.  To prove he was being honest, he lifted his cup and took a careful sip.

 

"I… I'll have some," the boy said, joining him and taking a seat across the table.

 

Kisuke retrieved two cups from the cabinet beside him and set them on the table, filling the one meant for the boy.  Teapot hovering over the empty one, he looked up at the girl.  "You look like you could use a cup, too."

 

She shrugged, slowly making her way over to them as well and taking a seat next to her companion, all the while keeping her wary eyes on him. 

 

Kisuke filled her cup as well and set about observing his two guests.  The boy kept his gaze locked on the table, looking as though he was deep in thought, but the girl didn't break eye contact for a second.  There was a strange look in her eyes; Kisuke could only find it natural that she was keeping her guard up, but there was something about the way she was scrutinizing him that told him she wasn't just trying to figure out his motives.  As the seconds ticked by in silence, neither of them looking away, her expression shifted just the slightest bit, and Kisuke saw it; the glimmer of recognition.  The girl's shoulders tensed up and she immediately tore her gaze away, clutching the cup close to her breast.  Her entire face had gone as pale as a sheet.

 

_She knows.  She recognized me._  

 

He didn't recall ever meeting the girl during his tenure as a Death God, but he couldn't be expected to know every single recruit from all thirteen divisions.  The Captains, however, were famous all over Soul Society, even outside the Court of Pure Souls.  He would be very surprised if his name, as well as that of his companions and their physical appearance hadn't been made public and were often brought up following their escape.  Even if she had never seen him in person, it would not be hard to deduce who he was if she'd been given enough information.  What he could not figure out, however, was what she was going to do now that she had worked out his identity.  Would she make a run for it, or perhaps do something as foolish as attack?  Kisuke tried to put himself in the General Commander's shoes to figure out what he might have advised his subordinates to do, should they ever meet a Captain-class Death God considered an enemy.  _Running would be useless.  Her only choice with a miniscule possibility for survival is to create a distraction and attempt to escape.  Easier done when in a group._   His eyes flicked over to the boy, who had yet to look elsewhere.  He didn't appear to have reached the same conclusion the girl had.

 

_I need to act quickly.  If she panics—_

 

"THANK YOU FOR HEALING ME, KIND STRANGER!"

 

Kisuke nearly upended his cup in shock, half its contents spilling on his clothes.  The girl had a similar reaction to her friend's sudden outburst, turning to glare at him as she clutched her chest, heaving.  The boy was bent low in supplication, fists firmly pressed against the wooden floor.  Kisuke blinked at him a couple of times, then set his cup down on the table, wary of any follow-ups.  "You… you're welcome," he said.

 

"I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE, BUT IF I CAN REPAY—"

 

Cringing, Kisuke held out a hand, his other touching his throbbing temple.  _I **really** should have slept more last night,_ he thought.  "ALL RIGHT, first off, no need to shout," he said.  "Second, please get up."

 

The boy did so, his head still slightly bowed.

 

"Third, why don't you ask your friend there who I am?" Kisuke said, as he lamented the state of his drenched kimono.  "She seems to know."

 

The girl choked on her sip of tea, eyes widening in dread.  "NO," she wheezed, banging on her chest with a fist, in between rasping coughs.  "NO, I DON'T!  Honest!"

 

Such was the look of terror in her eyes, that Kisuke was momentarily distracted by his ultimate goal, and stared at her in disbelief instead.  "Good grief, what have people told you about me?"

 

"NOTHING!  Absolutely noth—!"

 

Turning to the boy, Kisuke eyed him warily.  "Do _you_ know who I am?"

 

"Er…"

 

_Well… it's not like she won't share the information if I let them go,_ he reasoned.  "My name is Urahara Kisuke—"

 

Surely enough, the look on the boy's face now matched the one the girl wore.

 

"Okay, seriously, I must know," Kisuke said.  "Am I some sort of Soul Society boogey man now?"  _Are people using my name as a threat to get their kids to eat their carrots, or something?_

 

Still trembling, the boy stole a quick glance toward the girl, who shook her head vigorously.  "Well… Er…"

 

"I'm not sure whether this is funny or a little insulting," Kisuke said earnestly, taking a sip of tea.  On one hand, his apparent infamy worked to his advantage if he wished to manipulate the two kids into keeping their mouths shut.  On the other hand, having them scared to death of him would only work if he kept them captive, and that would serve no purpose.  What he needed was a way to make certain they would return home and never mention his whereabouts to their superiors.  A healthy dose of fear would do the trick, but allowing them to leave while they still considered him an enemy would not do at all.

 

_What I need, is for them to be scared of reporting the incident, not me,_ he thought.  The problem was that neither of them had stepped a toe out of line.  Aside from the boy failing to slay the Hollow two nights ago, they had performed their duty as expected, and even though he'd had to intervene and save the boy, his reputation was clearly appalling enough to overshadow any amount of gratitude.  They had broken no laws, nor had they been seen—

 

_Oh._ _ **Ooooh**._   

 

"Ah, well," Kisuke said with a shrug, the cogs in his brain already spinning wildly.  "Have some tea and you can go, then.  Probably best you leave through the back, though, I'm not sure if the girl is up yet."

 

The female Death God stared at her companion once, then back at him.  "What girl?"

 

Kisuke's eyebrows arched up at the question.  "What do you mean, _what girl_?  The one across the street," he said, pointing toward the front door.

 

"What about her?" the boy asked.

 

Looking at them both as though they were not making any sense, Kisuke frowned.  "Well… who did you think the two Hollows were after?  She's the only one in this town with adequate spiritual sensitivity.  Surely you can sense it?"

 

The revelation of his identity now long forgotten, the Death Gods shared a look of growing alarm, before the girl turned to Kisuke again.  "B-but… We were told there was no-one… I mean… There are records of the girl being spiritually aware, but not enough to— We were told the Hollows showing up were some sort of fluke, we were sent only to investigate!"

 

It took a great deal of restraint not to react to this piece of news.  _So the Thirteen Divisions don't know why the Hollows appeared, either,_ Kisuke thought.  _Interesting._   "You saw them yourselves," he said.  "It wasn't an instrument malfunction.  They were after the girl."

 

"But she's not—!"

 

"I'm afraid your information is a little outdated," Kisuke said, his expression sympathetic.  "I've lived across this family for eight years now, and I've been monitoring the girl's progress.  She can both sense and see spirits now.  Why do you think my house is surrounded by a barrier?"

 

"Kiyone," the boy muttered through clenched teeth, his forehead already glistening with condensation.  "We didn't bring—"

 

"I know, _I know_!" the girl hissed at him, now biting her fingernails furiously.  "Shit, shit, shit!"

 

_Bingo._   "There's no need to panic," Kisuke said.  "You did your job well, you're not—"

 

"You don't understand!" the girl said.  "We came through the front— Didn't even hide properly— What if she…?"

 

"Oh, dear," Kisuke said, reaching up to stroke his chin absently.  "You think she might have seen you?  That _is_ a possibility… It's why I invited you inside, but I thought— Well, it's an easy fix, at least," he said.  "Just use your Divine Memory Converters and she won't remember a thing."

 

Both Death Gods avoided his gaze as well as each other's.  "Er… you see…" the boy muttered.  "We weren't issued— No-one thought there was a human who could see us down here!"

 

"You're not carrying a converter?" Kisuke asked, frowning.  His question was met with a round of shaking heads.  Letting out a sigh, he refilled his cup as well as theirs.  "Look, just… don't worry about it.  I'll take care of the girl," he said.

 

The kids looked at each other once, before turning their meek gazes toward him.  "W-what do you mean?" the girl asked.

 

"I'll make sure her memories are modified, if needed," Kisuke said.

 

"You kept a memory converter?" the boy asked.

 

"No, but I don't need one.  Do you know what your Divine Memory Converter is?" Kisuke asked them.  "It was developed by my old division.  You see, back in the day, a senior Death God was always required to accompany junior members on regular patrols, in case a memory had to be modified.  The spell is rather complicated, and even accomplished Death Gods had trouble casting one successfully at times.  So we created a device that was capable of holding a simple version of the spell.  Still, it's well within the league of any captain-level Death God."

 

Clearly, the young man and woman had not expected this turn of events.  While Kisuke couldn't know what they had been told about the eleven Death Gods who had escaped Soul Society, he could very well imagine, judging by the incredulous look the two were now sharing.  The boy turned to him first, a mixture of relief and incredulity on his features.  "So… you're saying you're going to help us?"

 

"Well… yes, of course," Kisuke said.

 

The girl looked equally stunned by his offer.  "You… you're not going to…?"

 

"To… what?" Kisuke asked.

 

In response, the girl only bit her bottom lip and stared at her knees.

 

"You're just… not… what we expected," the boy said.

 

"Oh?  What _did_ you expect?" Kisuke asked.  The question was obviously a little too straight-forward than either of them felt comfortable with, as they fell silent again.  Emboldened by the route the conversation had taken, Kisuke decided to go in for the kill.  "I'm not your enemy.  I know you have very good reasons to think so, but I meant it when I said I wasn't going to hurt you.  You're free to leave whenever you wish; I merely wanted to get you off the street because of my neighbor.  If I led you to believe otherwise, you have my apologies."

 

Though he was well on the way to earning their trust, Kisuke knew it was going to take more than dulcet words and vague promises to do so.  The girl in particular appeared to be a little sharper than the boy, inconveniently enough.  While he was now visibly at ease, she was still eyeing Kisuke warily and refused to rely on his word alone that they were safe.  "B-but… you…" she stammered.

 

"My dear girl, if I wished you harm, wouldn't you already be dead?" Kisuke said.

 

The boy leaned toward his companion.  "He makes a fair point," he whispered to her out of the corner of his mouth.

 

"Shut up!"

 

"But he healed me!  And now he's offering to help.  And Captain Ukitake—"

 

"I know what Captain Ukitake said!  I just—"

 

Apparently deciding to place his trust upon a stranger, the boy fell into a bow once more. "My name is Kotsubaki Sentarou," he said.  "Thank you for all your help the other night, Mr. Urahara."

 

_Kotsubaki?_   Kisuke took a closer look at the boy.  _There **is** a resemblance,_ he thought, bringing to mind Aikawa's old Lieutenant.  He wondered whether the two were related.  He remembered hearing once that the Lieutenant was married, but he'd never heard of nor seen any of his children to know for sure.  "Kotsubaki?  Is your father's name Jin'emon, by any chance?" Kisuke asked.

 

The boy nodded.  "Yes, sir.  Was, actually.  Killed in action five years ago."

 

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Kisuke said.  "I didn't know him personally, but I do recall Captain Aikawa always spoke very highly of him."

 

"Thank you, sir," Kotsubaki said, beaming at him.

 

_One down, one to go,_ Kisuke thought, glad for that small stroke of luck, but far more interested in the fact that Captain Ukitake's name had been mentioned.  Were those two members of the Thirteenth Division?  If so, he had one more factor working to his advantage; Captain Ukitake had always been kind and generous to all his peers, and according to Yoruichi's information, he was one of the few superior officers who had voiced their concerns following the travesty of a trial Kisuke and Tessai had been subjected to.  "Nice to meet you, then, Kotsubaki," Kisuke said.  "You're both Captain Ukitake's subordinates, then?"

 

"Yes, sir," Kotsubaki said proudly.  "Kiyone here may have forgotten, but our Captain, an intensely charismatic, very perceptive man—"

 

Whatever it was Kotsubaki was going to say next, it was lost in a cry of pain, as the girl nudged him on the side, hard.  "I haven't forgotten!" she said, a determined look on her face as she turned to Kisuke next.  "My name is Kotetsu Kiyone… Thank you for your help." There were still traces of apprehension in her voice, but Kisuke knew it couldn't be helped.  The fact alone that he had managed to convince one of them was cause for celebration.  

 

"You're welcome," he told Kotetsu, giving her a polite smile.

 

"What Sentarou wanted to say is," Kotetsu went on.  "Captain Ukitake has always been… skeptical about some of the rumors concerning you."

 

_Now we're talking._  "And those rumors would be?" Kisuke asked.

 

Kotetsu shared yet another look with Kotsubaki.  Clearly, this was a sensitive topic, and while he was grateful to the girl for trying to be delicate about it, he was intensely curious to hear a first-hand account of how his reputation had suffered in the wake of his departure.  Kotetsu took a deep breath, as though readying herself for an unpleasant task; perhaps she was afraid of what would happen once he heard the news.  "That you… created a gigai that breaks down spiritual power and tested it out on your fellow captains and when it weakened them you turned them into Hollows," she said in a single breath, validating Kisuke's suspicion that she was scared of his reaction; she was no longer looking at him with suspicion, but rather with fear that he would retaliate on the messenger, or perhaps even kill her and her partner in a manner similar to what she had just described.

 

_So that's what Aizen told everyone,_ Kisuke thought.  Not for the first time in his life, Kisuke had to marvel at Aizen's ability to tie lose ends together in a neat little package.  What was truly remarkable, and a testament to Aizen's talents of deception, was how he weaved fragments of the truth into the lies he told, making said lies all the more believable.  Kisuke actually _had_ created such a gigai; it was a product of his research on the Rukongai disappearances.  Since his attempts in creating a gigai that contained spirit matter had failed, he had had the idea to create the exact opposite first, in an effort to better understand the issue.  Once that gigai had been perfected, reversing the process had been child's play.  Knowing that such a gigai would raise suspicion, he had meant to dispose of it –though not the research behind it- but he hadn't been able to do so before the events of February 1 st, eight years ago.  He assumed the gigai had been discovered, first by Aizen, then by the investigation squad, in its hiding place.  Yoruichi couldn't have known to look for it when she retrieved the rest of the prototypes.

 

_It really was a perfect distraction,_ he thought.  Kisuke had had few friends in Soul Society as it was, and with Central 46 already mistrusting him greatly, all they'd needed to believe he was the perpetrator was a semi-believable excuse.  What still kept him up at night every now and then was how Aizen had managed to convince everyone he had never left the Court.  It was the only piece of the puzzle that didn't make any sense.  _But that is neither here nor there,_ Kisuke thought, returning to the present.

 

"Ah," he said, once Kotetsu had finished filling him in.  "And why was the _very_ charismatic and perceptive Captain Ukitake skeptical?"

 

"When you were once mentioned," Kotsubaki said.  "On September 2nd six years ago—"

 

"You remember the date?" Kisuke asked, arching an eyebrow at the boy.

 

Kotsubaki gave him a proud smile.  "I keep a journal of all of Captain Ukitake's quotes and pearls of wisdom—"

 

"And he stole the idea from _me_!" Kotetsu cut him off.

 

It was beginning to dawn on Kisuke that luck truly had been on his side that night, when it was those two Death Gods who had showed up to deal with the Hollows instead of anyone else.  "Right," he said.  "So.  I was mentioned."

 

"Yes, sir," Kotsubaki said, taking a deep breath as though he was about to start reciting.  As it turned out, he was: "And Captain Ukitake said you had never given your peers any reason to suspect you or otherwise think any less of you, and how you were not given a proper trial or any chance to defend yourself, and how the report after your escape was full of holes that left people wondering if the accusations against you were really true."

 

Kisuke was suddenly filled with remorse in regards to his former Captain; when he had first joined the Thirteen Divisions, he'd had no desire to rise through the ranks, and had instead only been looking for the right venue to realize his ambition.  Having a seat on any of the other divisions would have made no difference to him, as long as he could start working on what he'd hoped would one day become the current SRDI.  Until he had transferred to the Second Division, he hadn't really shown much initiative as a Death God.  Hearing Captain Ukitake's opinion of him, however, now made him wish he'd tried a little harder to do right by his old superior.  "Captain Ukitake isn't the only one who thinks so?" he asked.

 

"Yours is a… controversial name in Soul Society," Kotetsu said.  "A lot of people believe you're a criminal.  But some, and it's not a small number, either, agree with the Captain.  It's just… not something that's said out in the open.  The Central 46 can be…" she trailed off.

 

Much like he had felt when Yoruichi had first shared that information with him, Kisuke felt his heart swell.  For all his talk about how little he cared about any sort of legacy or a reputation, knowing that what he had spent years building up had been reduced to rubble within one night had hurt.  He had long ago learned not to fret over the opinion of anyone who didn't matter to him, but being branded a traitor was _nothing_ like being disliked, or simply misunderstood.  He also hadn't failed to notice that in the discussion concerning his reputation, Tessai and Yoruichi's names hadn't once come up.  He was curious to know if they were considered traitors as well, but asking questions could very well clue in Kotsubaki and Kotetsu to their presence there.  Given their current information, if the two Death Gods ended up reporting him, Tessai and Yoruichi wouldn't have to suffer the same consequences. 

 

"Well now…" Kisuke said.  "That's truly unexpected."

 

Kotetsu locked her eyes upon him, biting her lower lip.  "It's not true, is it?" she timidly asked.  "About the experiments?"

 

Kisuke smiled at her.  "No, it's not," he said, setting his cup down.  "What I'm wondering though, is how a… thirteenth seat?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at her questioningly.  He was well-aware of the fact that she was, in fact, closer to a seventeenth seat, but a little extra flattery couldn't hurt.

 

The girl turned a deep shade of red, a pleased smile gracing her lips.  "Sixteenth!" she said.

 

"Sixteenth then, my apologies," Kisuke said.  "I wonder how a sixteenth seat can be proficient enough in kaidou to be able to follow even an extremely weak spell signature to its source."

 

"How did you know it was me?" Kotetsu asked.

 

"I heard you when you were outside."

 

"Oh!" she said.  "Well… My sister is a very gifted healer.  She's in Captain Unohana's division and people say she should easily make Lieutenant one day.  Maybe even Captain.  She taught me some advanced kaidou to be able to heal myself better.  And… y'know… a few tricks, too."

 

"I see," Kisuke said.

 

"Mr. Urahara, sir…" Kotsubaki said, his tone tentative.  "If you really are innocent of the charges against you, why not return with us?  We will vouch for you, and you can try to clear your—"

 

_Oh, now **there's** an interesting notion. _ "Absolutely not."

 

"Why?" Kotetsu asked.

 

"Because if I wasn't given a chance to speak the first time around, I won't be given one now, either," Kisuke said.  "I have no desire to be apprehended a second time for a crime I did not commit.  The threat has been long ago neutralized, after all, and Soul Society is safe."

 

It wasn't the most moral thing he had ever done, letting Kotsubaki and Kotetsu believe that the true perpetrator was gone, instead of living among them, but Kisuke could never trust such a secret with anyone not already in the know, especially not the two of them.  Aizen was a master manipulator, and Kisuke knew that sooner or later, either Kotetsu or Kotsubaki would slip and end up dead, or worse.  Besides, he had a feeling that Aizen would lay low for the time being.  Much like he hadn't made any attempt to track him down, he would not make a move against the Thirteen Divisions until he was well and truly prepared.  And when that day came, Kisuke would be ready as well.  Soul Society wasn't entirely in the dark of the traitor hiding in plain sight, after all.  The sole exception to his rule concerning never confiding the truth to outsiders was currently living in Rukongai, perfectly capable of not only keeping an eye on the Thirteen Divisions, but also ready to send a message their way should trouble start stirring again.

 

"But who was—?" Kotsubaki asked, the look in his eyes eager and hopeful.

 

"Another story for another time," Kisuke said.  _Namely never._ He drained his cup of tea, confident that he had done everything within his power to persuade Kotetsu and Kotsubaki not to report him.  There was just one more thing to do, one final little push.  "Now then… I trust I can count on your discretion?"

 

He took it as a positive sign that they both nodded in unison without consulting each other first.

 

"You can't tell Captain Ukitake, either," he said.

 

The two kids looked a little pained at the sound of that, but both agreed.

 

"Good," Kisuke said, then stood up to make his way to the apothecary table sitting in the back of the room.  He opened one of the bottom drawers, retrieving a small medicine pouch.  "Here," he said, tossing it to Kotsubaki.  "I can see Miss Kotetsu did a perfectly fine job, but it's a good idea to keep taking one of these every hour."

 

Kotsubaki stared from the pouch in his hands to Kisuke and back again, looking very confused.

 

"It's not poison," Kisuke said.  "You can have Captain Unohana test it for you when you get back home, if you don't believe me."

 

 "N-no, that's not it…" Kotsubaki said, pocketing the pouch.  "I just… Th-thank you."

 

"Think nothing of it."

 

Kotetsu turned to look at Kisuke, fidgeting with the cup in her hands.  "Should… should we get going?"

 

"Well, I've asked all I wanted to know, so when you're done with your tea, feel free to go on your way," Kisuke said.

 

Kotsubaki set his cup down on the table very slowly, a determined expression on his face, then bowed before Kisuke again.  "ONCE MORE, I AM INDEBTED—"

 

_Good grief, does the boy even have an 'indoors' setting?_  "Yes, yes, I heard you—" Kisuke said, cringing.

 

"You… you _must_ allow me to repay you, Mr. Urahara, sir," Kotsubaki said, looking up from his deep bow.  "You have been very generous to me and I feel I need to—"

 

"You don't _need_ to do anyth—" Kisuke began, when he realized; there _was_ something those two could do for him.  Something that could make his and Yoruichi and Tessai's lives infinitely better.  "Hmmm…"

 

"Name it!"

 

Gently fondling his chin, Kisuke looked down at Kotsubaki.  "You wouldn't be willing to bring me a few items from Soul Society on your next visit, would you?"

 

The boy looked surprised at the request.  Perhaps he had expected something more complicated.  "Uhh… Unless it's something pricy, or dangerous, I don't see why not, sir."

 

The future possibilities of such an exchange made Kisuke's mind reel.  He suddenly felt dizzy, the strain of the past few days finally catching up on him.  _Slow down, slow **down** , _he cautioned himself.  _First things first._ "Give me a few minutes to compile the list," he told Kotsubaki.  "Help yourselves to some senbei while you wait," he said, motioning toward the bowl of crackers on the table, before turning his heel and heading straight for the small storage room in the back.  He flicked the light switch on, searching frantically for an ink pencil and a piece of paper to write his list upon.  As he went through the shelves, he saw a pair of yellow eyes stare back at him. 

 

It was quite a wonder, really, how Yoruichi was able to convey anger in her cat form without a set of eyebrows, but somehow, she managed perfectly fine.  Kisuke held up his finger in front of his lips, then set about writing down the items he was going to need.  _I'll have to deal with that later,_ he thought, knowing Yoruichi would have a lot to say about what had just transpired, but it was no use worrying right now.  As soon as he was done, Kisuke stuffed the list in his pocket, then made to leave the storage room, before he remembered that he'd been meaning to retrieve an object for Kotsubaki and Kotetsu, a little something to sweeten the pot.

 

By the time he returned, both young Death Gods had finished their tea and looked ready to leave.  "There you go," Kisuke said, handing Kotsubaki the list."I know it's a lot, but if you manage to get it all for me, you can count on my assistance in the near future."

 

"Your assistance?" Kotetsu asked.

 

Kisuke dug his hand in his pocket and tossed one of a pair of identical objects to the girl.  "This is a special little compass," he told her.  "It functions much the same way a regular one would, but see the small button at the top?" he said, pointing at the compass in Kotetsu's hand.  "When pressed, it points to the direction of the biggest threat in the vicinity."

 

"Biggest threat?" Kotetsu said.  "You mean the strongest Hollow?"

 

"Exactly.  It's pretty sensitive, too.  Allows you to follow a spiritual signature lying well outside a Death God's natural range."

 

The girl stared at the compass in her hand, jaw slack.  "This… this is a very valuable object.  And you're just… _giving_ it to us?"

 

"This old thing?  I have about twenty of them lying around.  Here," he said, tossing another one to the boy.  "Have one, too.  Get me everything on that list, and I'll throw in some quality charges for your Divine Memory Converters; not the two-bit hogwash you get pre-installed," he said.  While he wasn't in possession of the charges in question, it would be a breeze creating them once Kotsubaki brought back the materials he had requested.   

 

Kotetsu and Kotsubaki gaped at each other, then turned to Kisuke, both wearing identical expressions of shock and awe that told him he had finally succeeded in convincing them to trust him.

 

Folding his arms behind his back, he gave them a smirk.  "Didn't anyone tell you?  I'm an inventor."

 

* * *

 

 

**OCTOBER 8 TH, 168 B.H.I., SHIHOUIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

 

He was so close, he could practically _taste_ it.  After seventy-two years, it was finally, _finally_ going to happen.

 

Every single one of his senses was engaged: his eyes focused on the board, looking for any openings; his hands gripping the pillow; his ears perked up to detect any sound of discomfort from his opponent; his nose twitching; his tongue running over his lower lip incessantly, as he bit down so hard he had actually drawn a little blood.

 

"Look at you," Lord Shihouin said, shaking his head.  "You're about to spring off your seat."

 

Kisuke looked up, meeting Ken'ichi Shihouin's dark eyes.  "I…"

 

"Oh, go on, then," Lord Shihouin said, waving one hand airily.  "I should have conceded four rounds ago, but I suspected you'd want to savor this.  Say it."

 

Kisuke let out a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.  "Checkmate."

 

Lord Shihouin smiled at him, folding his arms before his chest.  His eyes were red, the lines on his face etched deeper tonight, evidence of the long day he'd undoubtedly had.  Kisuke was certain he looked no different.  It wasn't unusual for them to stretch a game beyond their traditional 7 p.m. cut-off for dinner, but they had never played beyond half past, and it had always been a game close to the end.  Today, however, had been an exception.  As 7 p.m. had drawn near, Lord Shihouin had glanced at the clock once, fingertips worrying his chin, and he had looked straight at Kisuke, not a hint of playfulness in his eyes: "Have you finished your homework?" he'd asked.

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"Good, because we're not done here," he'd said.  "We'll send a note to your mother, letting her know not to expect you."

 

Kisuke had tried not to let the utterly alien sight of Lord Shihouin practically inhaling his dinner from a bowl throw him off-balance; he had played an exceptional game from the start, if he said so himself, choosing to go with an all-out offensive strategy.  It had failed him many times in the past, for Lord Shihouin was not only a brilliant strategist, but a phenomenal and highly experienced player as well.  However, after decades of observation, trial, and error, Kisuke had finally felt confident of his own mastery of the game.  Lord Shihouin, a man as proud as they came, had taken the possibility of defeat –no matter how remote- personally.  For the remainder of the game, they didn't leave the board, not even for dinner which had to be brought to them.  Lord Shihouin refused to allow them a break, insisting they were perfectly capable of eating while they played.  He would later on repeat those very words to both his nervous servant who had brought their meal, and even Lady Hana herself who had shown up at 8 o' clock, apparently having to witness the sight with her own eyes to believe it.

 

Three and a half hours later, Kisuke could finally bask in the afterglow of his victory.

 

"Congratulations," Lord Shihouin said graciously, as he rubbed one of his sore shoulders.  "You could have beaten me years ago if you'd played as confidently as you did today."

 

_Oh, I know._   "I don't think that's true," Kisuke said, in as modest a voice as he could muster.

 

"Spare me your pity," Lord Shihouin shot back, though there was no rancor in his voice.  "You won fair and square.  I will allow some moderate basking."

 

"Sir?"

 

"Don't rub my face in it."

 

Kisuke chuckled, stretching his aching arms and back.  "Understood.  Minimal gloating only."

 

"Now, I know you're tired, but we might as well take care of this tonight," he said.  "I will see to it that Madam Fujiwara is informed should you be late for class tomorrow morning."

 

_Take care of… what?_   "Uhh, I'm not sure I understand—"

 

Lord Shihouin stood up slowly, cringing as little as he did so.  "You will, shortly.  Give me a moment and we will head down together," he said, making his way toward his magnificent, bulging bookcase, one of the items within the study which Kisuke had always coveted. 

 

_Head down **where**?  _ Swallowing down the myriad of questions that had sprung from a single sentence, Kisuke stood up as well, feeling his knees protest at the movement after such a long, sedentary stretch. 

 

Lord Shihouin pulled open a drawer at the bottom of his bookcase, retrieving what looked like a key.  He slipped it into the pocket of his blue kimono and approached Kisuke, giving him a gentle pat on the back.  "Quickly now, lest your mother send a search party after you," he said.

 

Kisuke slipped his sandals on by the threshold, then followed Lord Shihouin along the corridors of the estate.  Having lived at court for so long, he was familiar with most of the little nooks and crannies of the grand estate, even some where he was not allowed to enter; it was the result of his and Yoruichi's several midnight outings as children.  _Yoruichi…_ The thought of her alone was enough to put a damper on what had so far been a wonderful evening.  Before he found himself diving head-first into the downward spiral that was agonizing over the current state of their relationship, Kisuke forced himself to push the thoughts away, concentrating instead on the mysterious, nocturnal stroll he was in the midst of.  As they descended one winding staircase after the other, Kisuke realized he was about to venture into a part of the castle not even he and Yor— _No, don't go there._ A part he had never managed to access before, because it was easily the most heavily guarded wing of the estate after the Shihouin clan floor.

 

"You must have figured it out by now," Lord Shihouin said, coming to a stop on the final few steps of the staircase.

 

"Are… Are we going to the Vault, sir?" Kisuke asked, hoping he hadn't just sounded too eager.

 

Lord Shihouin nodded at him.  "Unless you'd rather go rest?"

 

Kisuke nearly lost his footing as he hurried down the steps, shaking his head vigorously.  The older man stepped through the archway, an amused grin tugging on his lips.  Kisuke followed suit, suddenly realizing how much colder this part of the castle was, compared to the upper floors.  The guards littering the entire length of the long, dimly lit corridor quietly saluted Lord Shihouin as he walked past them, and Kisuke noticed their helmets and parts of their armor were all covered with a film of condensation.  _How far below the ground floor are we?_ Kisuke wondered, glancing at the ceiling apprehensively, trying not to think about the several cubic tons of stone and dirt resting upon it. 

 

At the end of the corridor stood a set of large double iron doors, holding the most complicated lock Kisuke had ever laid eyes upon.  It spanned nearly half the length of the doors, and Kisuke couldn't imagine what sort of key might open it; certainly not the one Lord Shihouin had brought from his study.  The lock had the appearance of a folded out maze; longer than a typical square or round labyrinth, it started on the far left of the lock, where the key was no doubt first inserted, and continued horizontally in a meander-like fashion, all the way to the far right.  Before Kisuke could venture a guess as to how it was meant to open, Lord Shihouin withdrew the key from his pocket and, sure enough, inserted it at the opening on the left corner.  What followed was a series of undoubtedly practiced moves, as Lord Shihouin twisted and turned the key in deft, fluid movements.  Kisuke noticed that he wasn't following the entire path of the lock as he went through.  _Is this… a puzzle?_       

 

After a solid minute of effort, there was an audible, highly satisfying 'Click!' and Lord Shihouin withdrew the key from the lock.  "Two-fold protection," he explained, placing his palm flat against the door.  "First the lock, then a spell which reacts to the correct spiritual signature.  It will only open for individuals who have been granted access."

 

"Why have such a complicated mechanism when the door will be locked to intruders anyway?" Kisuke asked.

 

"The second layer of protection is set at night as extra precaution," Lord Shihouin replied.  "It can only ever be activated and deactivated by a member of the Shihouin clan.  As for the lock, well… If one cannot get past it they have no business being down here in the first place."

 

"You mean… it requires the application of Kidou to open in conjunction with the key?" Kisuke asked.  "Is the key a conduit for the energy flow, sir?" 

 

"Very good," Lord Shihouin said, smiling at him approvingly.  "And the combination changes daily.  Getting through this will be your first test.  But not tonight, don't worry.  Shall we?"

 

Kisuke nodded, his eyes locking upon the heavy double doors when Lord Shihouin pushed them open.  As he craned his neck to glimpse through the slowly widening crack between the doors, his heart was racing; would it be anything like what he had pictured?  Ever since learning of its existence, he had fantasized about entering the Shihouin sanctum sanctorum almost every single day, wondering about the research being conducted in the very bowels of the castle, and the illustrious artifacts of Soul Society's master craftsmen.  

 

He briefly wondered whether Tessai would be there, as he and Yoruichi had long ago theorized.  It was all but a certainty, given the frequency with which he visited the Shihouin castle ever since joining the Kidou Corps, but no matter how many times they'd tried to weasel the truth out of him, he had never confirmed their allegations.

 

The heavy doors creaked open and Kisuke's breath caught in his lungs.  _This is it._

 

Following Lord Shihouin, Kisuke stepped into the cavernous expanse, his eyes watering by the strain as he tried to take it all in.  Upon first glance, he could see the place was laid out in two levels.  On the ground floor, the wide open space was split in two by an imaginary vertical line. 

 

On the right-hand side lay the section devoted to the Shihouin clan's original trade; blacksmithing.  Three large forges were scattered around that area, one by the corner right next to the entrance, the other on the far right corner, and the third in the middle.  Each forge was outfitted with a full set of tools, some of which looked like they been used only a few hours ago.  As they walked past them, Kisuke let one hand hover over a still warm anvil, wondering what had last been snapped into shape upon its surface. 

 

Instead of giving Kisuke a tour of the chem lab next, Lord Shihouin led him to the far end of the Vault, where a door lead into the only closed off and soundproofed section.  This was where the Kidou research took place, in a large, mostly empty area with no more furnishing than a few desks and storage cupboards.  The real work, he learned, happened first inside the quiet library in the back, and after proper research had been conducted, experiments were carried out under controlled conditions.

 

Once back outside, Kisuke was led over to the chem lab dominating the left side of the main area, walls lined with built-in shelves teeming with labeled bottles and boxes.  A dozen sturdy wooden tables were placed throughout the lab, overflowing with beakers, mortars, vials and pipettes, as well as a number of instruments Kisuke couldn't identify.  He did, however, notice the complete lack of more heavy-duty machinery, like distillers and furnaces.  When he pointed that out to Lord Shihouin, the older man merely grinned and pointed upstairs.  The second level of the lab, he explained, was where all the larger equipment, steam-powered and not, was stored.

 

If it had been earlier in the day, Kisuke might have asked to see the second floor as well, but he could tell Lord Shihouin was growing tired and was only even giving him the brief tour as a courtesy.  Still, he had seen more than enough to feel restless, eager to explore every single corner of this place when he would first revisit it in an official capacity.   

 

_Official capacity?_ he wondered, realizing he wasn't even sure what that meant.  And all of a sudden, he was overwhelmed.  For all his day-dreaming about one day working at the Vault, where he would not want for resources or a like mind to brainstorm with, he was coming to a sudden appreciation of just how young he was.  Down here, his youth might earn him some respect and make for a good first impression, but what happened when the novelty wore off?  More importantly, why was he even _there_?  "Am I… expected to…?"

 

"The only thing I expect of you is to observe and study," Lord Shihouin said.  "You are free to visit the Vault whenever you wish, as long as it does not interfere with your schooling.  All I ask is that you do so discreetly, and without disturbing the researchers working here.  Anyone who is not actively engaged in a project will be more than happy to answer your questions.  Or help you start a project of your own, in due time."

 

Jaw slack, Kisuke gaped at Lord Shihouin.  "My own—?" he said.  "Truly?"

 

The older man grinned at him.  "Of course.  Most of the men and women working here are seasoned Kidou masters, either working on a specific assignment or experienced enough to know how to get a project off the ground, so I can see how you might find yourself at a loss.  Follow me," he said, making his way toward the left-hand corner by the entrance, where the stairs leading up to the second floor were situated.  

 

Kisuke did as he was told, trailing behind Lord Shihouin, thrilled that he would get to see the second level after all.  Instead of heading upstairs, however, the man turned to the left and over to the blank wall by side of the staircase.  He glanced down to the ground at his feet, adjusting his position by a few centimeters to the right. 

 

As odd as he found that behavior, Kisuke decided not to ask what its purpose was until he had the full picture.  When he approached the wall as well, he was nearly pushed backwards by a tremendously powerful, invisible force.  Lord Shihouin appeared to be unaffected by it.  _Is this… a barrier_?  Even standing a few feet away from the thick stone wall, Kisuke could feel every single hair on his body rise, his skin breaking out in goose flesh in response to the throbbing energy field in front of him.  _What the **hell** is in there?_   _And where is **there** , even?_ _I can't see—_

 

Right on cue, Lord Shihouin raised one hand toward the barrier.  He slipped his palm through the field without any resistance, placing it against the stone.  As though an illusion had just been shattered before his eyes, Kisuke heard a low rumble, and watched as the previously blank stone surface mutated into an archway.  He couldn't tell what lay inside; the hidden chamber was still cloaked in darkness.  Nothing happened for a few seconds, Lord Shihouin making no effort to step inside or otherwise move at all.  Instead, he kept his eyes focused and his hand still, until the barrier yielded, forming an opening right in front of the archway.  Simultaneously, the room within was illuminated.

 

_Another two-fold protection,_ Kisuke thought.  This time, however, Lord Shihouin offered no explanation.  Kisuke wouldn't be surprised if both steps of the process could only be carried out by one of Shihouin blood. 

 

"This is where we keep our completed artifacts," Lord Shihouin said, finally letting his arm drop and ambling into the room.  "When you're ready to work on a solo project, you may take a look around, choose one that piques your interest and study it with the help of another researcher.  Advanced though they may be for someone of your level, they could serve as a source of inspiration, if you are having difficulty coming up with an idea on your own."

 

Kisuke followed Lord Shihouin into the now well-lit chamber.  It was no larger than a small pantry and built much the same way.  The walls were lined with mahogany shelves carrying nothing but glass display cases.  And within each case, lay one of the legendary Shihouin artifacts.  Kisuke assumed it would have been somewhat presumptuous of him to ask to stay and gawk at them all night long, so he made the best of what he was certain was going to be a short stay.  There were many objects that were begging for a closer look, but he quickly bypassed a gleaming helmet, several swords, and a large, red shield in search of something more interesting.  For a split second, he paused before a set of plain metal poles and a coil of strong-looking cord; it was easily the least impressive artifact in there, but he was certain that if it merited a place within a chamber that had been secured with four different methods and a long corridor full of well-trained guards, there was more to it than he could see.  Deciding not to dwell on it, Kisuke moved to the far back of the room, to one of the smallest displays.  Inside it was a very strange object: a tapering wand, of sorts, brown in color with what appeared to be a small scull embedded on the top. 

 

Before he could even begin to guess what the wand's purpose might be, he saw Lord Shihouin appear within his peripheral vision.  "It's getting late," he said.  "You can direct any questions you may have about these artifacts to either myself, or any of my brothers when you're next in here.  There is always one of us in the Vault, depending on our schedules."

 

"Yes, sir," Kisuke said, sorry to have to cut this visit short.  He knew now, that no matter how exhausted he was, he would have trouble falling asleep after the night he'd just had.      

 

Lord Shihouin guided him outside the chamber, then set about reapplying the barrier.  "I think, given your current abilities, that by the time you're ready to attend the Academy your skills will be well beyond what is required to complete the curriculum," he said, as he held his outstretched hand before the archway.  "Still, there is a lot of value to learn in such an environment, especially proper teamwork.  By the time you graduate, you could be well on your way to joining the Kidou Corps, an organization where your talents can be fully appreciated and properly cultivated."

 

And there it was: his future, as outlined by Lord Shihouin.  From the day Kisuke had begun to visit with the man on a regular basis, it hadn't taken him long to figure out what Lord Shihouin's intentions for him had been.  Still, this was the first time the subtext of a decades-long mentoring had been openly acknowledged for what it truly was.  What was surprising, however, was hearing that he was already being taught material that would be covered by the curriculum; if he was meant to attend the Academy anyway, as a prerequisite to being accepted into the Kidou Corps, what was the point of private lessons?  Why not allow him to go now, and save them both the extra six years it would take to graduate?

 

_For the same reason Yoruichi and her cousins have the best tutors money and networking can buy,_ he realized, answering his own question.  _If they're not very talented, they will have had enough time and instruction to improve and be able to manage the curriculum with ease, once they enter.  If they're like Yoruichi… they may even graduate early with honors._

 

Though not a Shihouin himself, Kisuke would no doubt become known for his association with the illustrious clan once in the Academy.  While he wouldn't be under the same pressure to succeed, as Yoruichi and her cousins would be, his performance would still reflect upon the Shihouins.  It was a frightening notion, knowing that his Lord's expectations of him would carry on to what was likely to be the first taste of true independence he would ever have.  Still, it meant that his sole ambition since moving into the estate was going to be realized in a few short decades.  

 

"The Kidou Corps," Kisuke repeated.  "An organization with strong ties to the Shihouin clan." 

 

With the chamber resealed, Lord Shihouin turned to face Kisuke, smiling his enigmatic smile at him.  "Just so."

 

_"We understand each other,_ " it seemed to say.  He was being given an opportunity others could scarcely dream of.  It would have been the most triumphant moment in his young life, if only he could get the small, persistent voice in his head to keep quiet.

 

_Am I being rewarded for staying away from Yoruichi?_

 

On the day she had announced she was to receive private instruction from Captain Kirinji, a tiny hairline fracture had formed in their bond.  In the years that followed, long before the awful confrontation with his mother, Kisuke had watched as the fracture slowly, but surely, began to widen.  There was little either of them could have done; Yoruichi had no say in her ever-expanding schedule, and while she was being molded into the next head of the family, Kisuke was to be groomed for the Kidou Corps. 

 

What had shocked him was not the forced separation itself, but how easily he had accepted it without putting up any true resistance.  Almost as though he had always expected it to happen, as if he had known their friendship wasn't meant to last.  For all his grandiose statements to his mother that he would not be separated from his best friend, in the end, he had done nothing to try and salvage their relationship, allowing them to drift apart. 

 

Sometimes at night, when sleep eluded him, he would wonder whether it wasn't his friend he was refusing to fight for, but his first… Well.  There was no word for it, really.  Calling it a crush sounded so infantile.  All he knew was that lately, whenever the mere thought of her entered his mind, his chest ached for reasons entirely unrelated to their dwindling time together.  A breeze would find its way into the classroom, making her hair dance, and he would be unable to concentrate for the remainder of the day.  She would best him in martial arts, and where he would once grin at her, trying to hide his frustration at her victory, he would now fixate on the swerve of her hip, the arch of her back, and pray to any deity willing to listen that he not find himself on the ground, in a tangle with her.  Despite her physical absence from his life, she was present _everywhere_ , in the smell of the blooming jasmines in the gardens, or the sight of the falling maple leaves, like a ghostly who preyed upon his sleep and injected color into his dreams.

 

He had a choice: he could either confront what his newfound feelings meant, learn to live with them and try to repair his quickly disintegrating friendship with Yoruichi, or he could let the natural course of things speed up what was already being undone. 

 

_A choice,_ the voice chastised him.  _Are you going to pretend you haven't already made it, over and over again for years?_

 

"Thank you for the opportunity, sir," he told Lord Shihouin.  "I won't let you down."

 

In the end, he had proven himself to be an Urahara through and through; petty, self-serving and a coward.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**DECEMBER 12 TH, 168 B.H.I., SHIHOUIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

 

"You're frustrated."

 

Kisuke let out a scoff at Tessai's choice of words.  _Frustrated_ didn't even come close to what he was feeling.  Cheek resting on his balled fist, he leafed through the various notes before him with his free hand.  He had spent the better part of his day huddled in the library of the Vault, eager to avoid any contact whatsoever, as it would inevitably lead to the kind of questions he most dreaded answering.  It was there that Tessai had found him, sitting on the floor beside a bookcase whose contents were scattered all round him, a veritable mountain of dust, leather and parchment that had been about as helpful as a coat in summer.  After a great deal of coaxing, Tessai had managed to get him to put every book back in its place and had persuaded him to have a seat at one of the empty desks so they could have a talk.

 

"I have been visiting the Vault for _months_ now and I'm making no progress whatsoever," Kisuke said, shutting the threadbare binder containing his notes and dropping his head on the desk with a thud.

 

"No progress?  What do you call this, then?" Tessai said, pointing at Kisuke's binder.

 

Kisuke straightened up on his seat again, smirking.  "This?" he said, reopening the binder and pulling out a sheet at random.  "I'm _so_ glad you asked!  _This_ is me being a moron by thinking that stalking _real_ scientists is going to get me anywhere.  _This_ ," He tossed the sheet onto the table and pulled out a new one.  "Is me trying to get a personal project started only to fail spectacularly.  _This,_ " Another note-filled sheet.  "Is me starting to realize I'm a fraud.  And _this,_ " he said, pulling out the last sheet in the binder; it was blank.  "Oh, this one's the _best_.  This is where I plan on composing a letter to Lord Shihouin, apologizing for wasting his valuable time and resources."

 

Hands folded on the desk, Tessai stared at Kisuke in complete silence, eyes wide.

 

Kisuke stared back at him, daring him to contradict anything that had just been said.

 

"Are you quite done?" Tessai asked.

 

"Pretty much.  Unless you want to help me with that letter."

 

Letting out a sigh, Tessai gathered the sheets of parchment Kisuke had scattered all over the table, giving them a quick glance each before stacking them up together.  "There is nothing wrong in here that I can see other than particularly lofty goals," he said.

 

" _Lofty_ ," Kisuke repeated, sinking down on his chair and crossing his arms. 

 

"Yes.  Take this for example," he said, pointing at the top sheet in the stack.  "These are blueprints for a casing to conceal weapons, unless I'm mistaken?"

 

Kisuke nodded.  "Both conceal and the reverse.  It's supposed to react to the caster's individual spiritual signature.  It's also supposed to work.  It doesn't."

 

Tilting his head down gently, Tessai peered at Kisuke over the rim of his glasses.  "You're expecting far too much of yourself, far too soon."

 

"This was the simplest design I could think of!" Kisuke protested.  "If I can't even do _that…_ " he trailed off.  Pursing his lips, he folded his arms on top on the desk and looked away from Tessai.  "Lord Shihouin didn't grant me access to this place just so I could sit and watch."

 

"That is _exactly_ why he did," Tessai said.  "Do not tell me he marched you down here and demanded an invention within the span of a scant seventy days."

 

"Well no, of course he didn't say _that_ , but…"

 

"You keep switching from project to project.  _That_ is your problem," Tessai said.  "How can you expect to bring anything to completion if you don't devote enough time to it?"

 

"I got stuck; I didn't abandon a project just because I lost interest."

 

"Oh really?  And just how long were you _stuck_ on your previous endeavor?"

 

Looking away, Kisuke mumbled, "A while."

 

"You're going to have to be more specific."

 

"Look, I'd been working on solo projects _long_ before I was given access to the Vault," he said.  "I _know_ when I'm stuck."

 

"Do you?  Do you really?" Tessai asked.  "Or is this the first time you've ever encountered a problem you couldn't solve in five minutes?"

 

There was a very knowing look in Tessai's eyes as he uttered those last few words.  Tessai had been an instructor, a mentor and a friend for decades, and even though they hadn't spent much time together in a recreational environment, Kisuke had no doubts that Tessai knew him in a way that few others did.  He had been there for many of Kisuke's creative milestones, witnessed first-hand the process by which he learned and adapted to new material.  He had an intimate understanding of his thought process, and that was precisely why Kisuke had decided to hide in the library in the first place; he had known all too well that if he had a run-in with Tessai, he would have to confront the kind of truths he had been very deliberately ignoring for a while.

 

Kisuke could do nothing but avoid Tessai's gaze and try in vain to contain the blush that was spreading on his face.

 

"I told you, didn't I?  The _first_ day we met," Tessai said.  "Talent alone will not always get you the results you hope for; you also need to apply yourself.  How long did it take before you realized you weren't going to make headway any time soon?"

 

"Two days," Kisuke admitted, still not making eye-contact.

 

"Why did you not come to me for help?"

 

Kisuke had no answer to that.  Or at least no answer that he could bring himself to utter out loud.  He shrugged, eyes locked upon a knot at the wooden desk.

 

"Didn't Lord Shihouin specifically say you were here to learn from more experienced researchers?"

 

"I… Yes, he did, but…"

 

"But… what?  Why are you so upset about this?"

 

" _Because_!" Kisuke said, running a hand through his hair.  "Because I…"

 

Because he had never failed so utterly at anything before.

 

Because he had made such a complete mess of his personal life that he needed _something_ to go right again.

 

Because…

 

"Because you wanted to impress him," Tessai said.

 

Kisuke opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out.  His throat was hurting, throbbing under the weight of every disappointment, every frustration at both himself and the situation which he could not bear to put to words.  He closed his mouth again, nostrils flaring, teeth grinding, blood pounding in his ears as the pain intensified.     

 

"What did you think was going to happen if you finished a project on your own?" Tessai went on, relentless.  "You're already here; what more could he do for you that he hasn't already done?"

 

In all honesty, he did not know.  His burning desire to please the man, to prove himself worthy of the opportunity he had been given was not something anyone would normally think twice over.  And yet, there was another tangent hidden underneath his drive, one he knew made little sense to begin with, but was a feeling he could not shake; the feeling that if he succeeded, if he lived up to his reputation and performed beyond what was expected of him, it would somehow mend what was all but broken between him and Yoruichi.  It was a foolish notion, he was well aware, and yet he knew, on a subconscious level that the two were inextricably linked.  The more he failed to rise to the occasion, the more the rift between him and his friend grew into a yawning chasm.  If asked, he would be unable to explain the connection, not certain he even understood it himself. 

 

"Well… that's just it, isn't it?" Kisuke said.  "He's done more than enough; more than anyone could ever be expected to do in his position.  And… I can't even—"

 

Tessai let out a sigh.  His eyes swept through the library, as though he was making certain he and Kisuke were indeed alone, then leaned forward over the desk and beckoned Kisuke closer.  "Pay attention, because I'm only going to say this once," he said.

 

Not certain what Tessai could possibly say that would merit his conspiratorial tone, Kisuke did as he was told, his interest already piqued.

 

"Shihouin Ken'ichi is a fair and generous man," Tessai began.  "Anyone in his employ, myself included, should count themselves fortunate.  That much is not under question.  But do not mistake his generosity for anything other than a smart investment.  You didn't think all of this was for your benefit alone, did you?  I cannot speak about your personal relationship with the man, but I do know that no matter what his opinion of you, it will not change the fact that what he gives, he expects to receive back tenfold."

 

"Exactly!  And—"

 

Tessai held up his hand, silencing him.  "That having been said… You do not owe him your entire future, Kisuke."

 

It was the use of his first name that shook Kisuke more than anything else Tessai said; despite the familiar tone he had long ago adopted when addressing him, Tessai still only ever called him Lord Urahara, even in private.

 

"You have been given an opportunity many would kill for and you would be a fool not to take advantage of it," Tessai went on.  "Stay here, learn from anyone who knows something worth teaching, and channel that knowledge whichever way you see fit.  You can still serve Lord Shihouin while making your own choices along the way.  Work hard, prove that his trust was not misplaced, but do not allow his expectations to color your present or future decisions.  Stop trying to do what you _think_ he wants you to do and start working on what speaks to you personally.  Impressing him will be the natural outcome of that," he said, not waiting for a reply before standing up.

 

Kisuke looked up at Tessai, eyes wide, wordlessly pleading with him to stay, to say and do anything other than leave him alone with his thoughts right now.  The –mostly one sided- conversation they'd just had had left him feeling raw; he was an exposed nerve, and the slightest inner confrontation would be the trigger that would not doubt unleash a world of pain upon him.

 

But Tessai would not yield.  "When you're ready to work on something of _your_ choice, I'll be here," he said, exiting the library without so much as another word or glance back at him.

 

In the wake of Tessai's departure, the library suddenly felt not unlike a broom closet.  The four walls began to converge upon Kisuke, and he could only now fully appreciate the meaning behind the expression 'caged animal.'  He could make a run for it, out of the stifling, dust-infested room, but it would be of no use; his cage was his own body, and no matter how far he ran, he would not be able to escape from what ailed him.  The dam had been broken and a veritable river of guilt and regret was flooding his very core.

_"It's not just with Yoruichi; I think you've been getting closer to Lord Shihouin_ _as well."_

_"You didn't think all of this was for your benefit alone, did you?"_

_"All I want is to protect you from future heartache."_

Pushing his chair back with a loud screech, Kisuke stood up and started pacing in front of the desk, hands in his hair.  He had known, of _course_ he'd known Lord Shihouin had ulterior motive when their private sessions had begun.  He was not a child; there were no delusional fantasies in which that relationship somehow became… _more_.  He respected the man, that was all.  He was the most brilliant mind he had come across in his entire life, of _course_ he admired him.  And being thought of as worthy by such a man had been genuinely flattering, he had always admitted as much.  There was nothing else to the relationship, no expectations, no affection.  None.  A business relationship, as he had so aptly said once, describing his friendship with… with…

 

_"You think dad saw you as a mistake?"_

_"No.  But it was naïve of him to think our marriage wouldn't cause problems with his clan, that they would eventually accept us and move on."_

Naïve.  Of course it was naïve.  How could he have _possibly_ thought he would ever stay friends with Yoruichi?  Even among nobles, and perhaps especially there, in the Court, the social ladder was a treacherous little thing.  Bridging the gap between the two ends had never been anything more than a fanciful notion.  Better a clean break, then.  Yes.  He didn't think he could stand this anymore, watching their friendship crumble piece by piece for years until only a facsimile of the past remained.  It was what they all wanted, after all.  Wasn't it?  His mother, Yoruichi's family, their social circle.  Wasn't this exactly why Lord Shihouin had offered him a place in the Vault in the first place?  Both as a reward for his recent attitude and as a future incentive? 

_"You do not owe him your entire future, Kisuke."_

 

_Oh, no, of course not. He just let me into his home, offered me the kind of education even a noble would openly covet, and promised me professional and financial security for the rest of my life.  No, no debt owed whatsoever.  "Sir, I know you spent the past few decades being nothing but generous to me, but I think I'm going to decline the offer.  Yeah, I'll just wing it, that whole future thing.  No hard feelings, right?  Also, I'm in love with your daughter and probably have been ever since I first laid eyes on her."_

 

Knowing that if he opened his mouth right now he would only scream, Kisuke vented his frustration out on the wall, fist-first.  _Stupid._   THUMP!  _Delusional._   THUMP!  _Naïve little fool._ THUMP!  His hand now throbbing and shaking, Kisuke sank to his knees, forehead pressed against the wall.  

 

_Hypocrite._ _You're such a fucking hypocrite,_ he chastised himself, and the knot in his throat finally loosened up, relinquishing its hold on his voice, but the only sound that came out was a sob.  _Hypocrite, hypocrite, hypocrite.  She was your **friend**!  Your **best** friend and you let her go.  Seventy-two years of her making you laugh, being there for you, sharing birthdays and disappointments, and you threw it all away.  And for what?  Because you were too much of a coward to face rejection, so you ran the opposite way, letting them keep you apart, letting them come between you, just… **letting** it all happen. _

Reaching up with one hand, Kisuke wiped the first few tears away angrily, then buried his face in his hand, struggling to breathe.  _So **what** if she never felt the same way, you stupid, sniveling coward?  So what?  She would still be your friend, you **know** she would.  And you would eventually get the fuck over it, and that would be that.  **Why** did you let them do this?  **Why** did you screw up one of the few, genuinely good things in your life?  Did you honestly think that one day, magically, you would earn her family's approval?  And even so, then what?  She would just forget about the fact that you never fought for her?  That you betrayed her like that?  You moron, you **fucking** moron._

 

Wrapping his arms around his midsection, Kisuke pressed his forehead against the wall harder, teeth clenched as he waited for more tears to fall, but found that he had none to shed.  He wasn't feeling sorry for himself anymore, just indescribably, completely and utterly furious.  At himself, at every little stupid decision that had only resulted in him feeling lost and miserable, at how very naïve he'd been.

 

_"And you know what?  Dad might've been **naïve** , but he still had the guts to tell the whole lot of them to go fuck themselves and chose you no matter what they thought."  _

 

Kisuke opened his eyes, staring at the floor beneath him blankly, brow creasing.  _Dad…  He was… He didn't…_  

 

_"You can still serve Lord Shihouin while making your own choices along the way."_

 

_He chose **her**.  No matter what.  He…_

 

Kisuke sat perfectly still, fingers digging into his ribs, his mind reeling.  He had no idea how long he stayed like this, unmoving and hardly even breathing, but when he got up, it was with a sense of purpose the likes of which he had never experienced before. 

 

Not caring about his dirty clothes, or the obvious signs of tears on his face, he sprinted out of the library, ignoring the whispers that followed in his wake. 

 

"Tessai!"

 

Tessai glanced up from the folder in his hands, a self-satisfied smirk on his lips, until he saw the state Kisuke was in.  Eyes widening, he was about to speak when Kisuke beat him to the punch.

 

"I think I'm going to go with that stupid weapon casing," he said.

 

"I… all right," Tessai began, standing up straight and readjusting his glasses.  "But—"

 

"If you don't mind, I'd actually like to try it again on my own," Kisuke said, interrupting him again.  "Just scrap the whole thing and start fresh."

 

"O-okay, but why—?"

 

"I need your help with something else," Kisuke said.  "Something more… personal."

 

In the end, he had proven himself to be an Urahara through and through; stubborn, delusional and naïve.

 

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**DECEMBER 14 TH, 168 B.H.I., SHIHOUIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

 

_"However, the Roads being reckoned as good as a harbour, the anchorage good, and our ground-tackle very strong, our men were unconcerned, and not in the least apprehensive of danger, but spent the time in rest and mirth, after the manner of the sea; but the eighth day, in the morning, the wind increased, and we had all hands at work to strike our topmasts, and make everything snug and close, that the ship might ride as easy as possible.  By noon the sea went very high indeed, and our ship rode forecastle in, shipped several seas, and we thought once or twice our anchor had come home; upon which our master ordered out the sheet-anchor, so that we rode with two anchors ahead, and the cables veered out to the bitter end."_

 

Yoruichi lay curled up on the pillows by the kotatsu, a thin blanket covering her from shoulder to toe.  Her eyes only skimmed over the passage of the book laid out before her.  A gift brought back from the human world by request of her father, her copy only numbered a couple of years of age, but to any outsider it would have appeared to be decades old.  The paper bore the creases of the pages she had marked to read again and again, the odd crumb or two trapped between them, and the leather binding them together softened, careworn.  By now, she was certain she knew most of it by heart, like the passage she had just reached.  It had become her balsam in times of need, a beloved friend, if an inanimate object could ever really reach such heights. 

 

At the very least, it held the power to transport her to a different world whenever her own reality became too much to bear.  The sea was never more than a few pages away.

 

Unfortunately, reality was making it hard for her to live vicariously through Simon Smythe tonight.  For the past few minutes, a draft had been making her window rattle, breaking her immersion just as she was getting lost into thoughts of sandy beaches and buried treasure.  When it happened for the eleventh time –she had kept count- Yoruichi slammed her book shut, pushing the blanket off her and getting up to her feet.  _Stupid thing,_ she thought, marching over to the windowsill.  _It's going to drive me mad until I can get someone to come fix it tomorrow._   Yanking the window open, she stared at the frame, examining it to see if she could figure out what was wrong with it.  She tried sliding it back and forth as a test to see if it was getting stuck on something, like a pebble, perhaps, when—

 

"Hi."

 

"AAAAHH!" Yoruichi shrieked, stumbling backwards from the window at the sound of the disembodied voice.  Hand clutching her heart, she took a second to fight off the shock, torn between dealing with the intruder herself or calling for help, when she realized the voice had been a very familiar one.  Frowning, she approached the window again with some trepidation, venturing a peek outside.

 

Surely enough, Kisuke stood right below window level, grinning and waving at her.  _Hold on a minute… **STOOD**?  What in the name of…?_   Placing both hands on the windowsill, Yoruichi gaped at him.  "What the _hell?_   Did you—?  How are you—?" she began, glancing downwards.  "Did you _climb_ up here?" she asked, taking in his odd appearance.  "What are you _wearing_?"

 

Before Kisuke could do much more than open his mouth to speak, the door behind Yoruichi was wrenched open, Sakumo and Hibiki rushing inside, spears at the ready.  In reflex, Yoruichi reached for Kisuke's head and pushed his head down and out of sight.

 

"Lady Yoruichi?" Sakumo said, looking frantically around her apartment interior before locating her.  "Is everything—?"

 

"Sorry, sorry!" Yoruichi said, putting on an apologetic smile.  "It was just a spider.  Tossed it out the window."

 

Both men were visibly relieved at the explanation, standing down.  Hibiki shook his head at her, giving her a half-amused, half-exasperated look. 

 

Yoruichi reiterated her apology, waiting until the guards had closed the door behind them before swiveling back to the window.  Kisuke slowly ascended upwards in response, coming up to eye-level and giving her another curt wave.

 

With the initial shock having worn off and her guards gone, Yoruichi took the time to give him a second, more thorough look.  He stood outside her window, in _midair_ , with a triumphant look on his face and an odd, beige cloak wrapped around him.  The cloak was crudely made, little more than a thick sheet of cloth draped over the shoulders; it had no sleeves or hood, but it sported a particularly high neckline reaching up to his chin.  A very thick piece of rope surrounded the neck and looped into a set of buttonholes at the end of the neck flaps.  Most curiously, the rope was secured with a large broach bearing the crest of her clan. 

 

It was clear that the cloak itself was the reason Kisuke was _literally_ floating before her eyes and the crest suggested this was an invention that had been created down at the Shihouin Vault, but this was not an artifact she had ever seen or heard of.  The only other such object in her family's possession that did something similar was the wand.  "Is that…?" she said.

 

"A flying cloak," Kisuke finished for her, beaming.

 

"You… _made_ this?" Yoruichi asked.

 

"More or less," Kisuke said.  "Listen, I'll explain everything, but can I just…?" he said, pointing indoors.

 

Yoruichi nodded, stepping aside so he could float past her and into her apartment.  He landed gracefully into the middle of her living room, letting out a brief, exhilarated huff of breath.  Seeing him illuminated under a proper source of light, Yoruichi suddenly noticed just how worn out he looked.  She was used to seeing what an all-nighter did to Kisuke, but his appearance right now was more than a little disconcerting: there were massive black circles under his bloodshot eyes, his skin almost grey-tinged and lacking any sort of luster, his hair an utter mess.  He also seemed to have lost a fair amount of weight since she'd last taken a good look at him; his cheeks were starting to look hollowed.

 

Kisuke seemed to realize what she was thinking when he caught her openly staring.  Giving her a grin, he reached up to undo the knot of the rope around his neck.  "Yeah, I know, I've looked better."

 

"When was the last time you got any rest?  Or food?" Yoruichi asked, slowly approaching him.

 

"Uhhhh, let's see… Today is… Tuesday?"

 

"Sunday night."

 

"Right, right!" he said, pulling the cloak off his shoulders with a flourish.  "I knew that.  Of course.  Weekend, yes."

 

There was a manic glint in his eyes, one she knew was the result of the lack of sleep or a proper meal.  Normally, when she'd tease or pester him about forgetting to eat he would play the fool, trying to get her to laugh and change the subject, but right now she wasn't certain if he was acting or not.  She wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't.

 

Yoruichi was suddenly all too aware that this was the first time she had been in close proximity to Kisuke outside of the classroom in months.  Whenever she had pictured such a scenario, it involved her being a lot more hostile and distant, but his current state made it near impossible to stay mad at him.  He looked awful, damn him, and she couldn't help but worry about him.  Of the two of them, she had always been the one who had a clear, visible reaction to frustration, taking it out on whatever she could get her hands on.  It was a violent, but cathartic emotional response, and by vocalizing it, she always felt better afterwards.  Kisuke, on the other hand, had a tendency for self-destruction.  Whenever something went wrong in his life, he would clam up, taking it out on himself both mentally and physically and it was an excruciating thing to witness.

 

Letting out a sigh, Yoruichi grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him over to the kotatsu.  "Sit," she said, pointing downwards.

 

"I wasn't going to stay long, I just—"

 

"You're not leaving until you've eaten something," she told him.

 

"Forget about that, I wanted to talk to you—"

 

"Kisuke," Yoruichi said, employing her most threatening tone of voice.  "Sit down."

 

Kisuke did as he was told, looking a little disoriented as he plopped down onto the pillows. 

 

Yoruichi marched toward her dining table, thankful that she hadn't had much of an appetite tonight.  The remnants of her half-finished dinner sat at the table, to be cleaned up by Mizuho later tonight.  She picked up the bowl of rice mixed with vegetables and pork, then retrieved a cup and took them both back to the kotatsu were Kisuke sat, his fingers toying with the discarded cloak on his lap.  Yoruichi took a seat across him and slid the bowl over to his side, then filled both their cups with steaming, black tea.

 

"Listen, Yoruichi—" Kisuke began.

 

"You get one sentence per five bites," Yoruichi said.

 

Rolling his eyes at her, Kisuke picked up the chopsticks and dug into the food impassively, deciding to humor her.  He was down to his third mouthful when the tepid meal seemed to start having an effect on him.  Pausing mid-chew, he reached for his cup of tea and took a slow, careful sip.  He closed his eyes, letting out a soft sound, a moan of mixed pain and pleasure, and Yoruichi knew that he was only now feeling the full brunt of the exhaustion and hunger wash over him.  Kisuke swallowed, opening his eyes again to look at Yoruichi.

 

"I didn't mean to barge in like that," he said quietly.  "It's just… the cloak is not entirely—" 

 

Yoruichi held up her index finger, making a circular motion to wordlessly tell him to keep on eating.

 

Kisuke shoved a few more mouthfuls in, washing them down with tea, then went on.  "See, the spell for it?  I sort of… rushed it.  I'm nowhere near the point where I can imbue fabric with Kidou permanently, so Tessai suggested I try a temporary version of the spell, instead.  More of a hover than actual flying.  It works, but not for long."

 

Yoruichi wrapped her arms around her bent knees, watching as some color began to return to Kisuke's face.  "So you've been working on that cloak for… how long?"

 

"Since Friday night," Kisuke said, holding the cup of tea against his chest.

 

"And why are you here?"

 

Kisuke's fingers contracted around the cup.  His expression told her that he had been expecting the confronting question, but he was still having trouble answering.  He broke eye-contact for a moment, biting his lower lip and staring at his lap, thumbs tracing the rim of his teacup. 

 

Despite her empathy for his state, Yoruichi refused to break the silence before he did.  He owed her at least that much, an honest answer.  She wasn't going to pretend she was entirely blameless, but he was the one who had taken the first step toward putting distance between them.  She would only ever apologize for returning the gesture if he did first.

 

After a long deliberation, Kisuke placed his cup on the table and took in a deep breath, hands on his knees.  "It was," he began, pausing as though he was considering the right word to use.  "Pointed out to me that our relationship was becoming… inappropriate."

 

Yoruichi's face fell into a scowl. 

 

"I mean… I always knew, you know?" he said, giving her a mirthless grin.  "No-one ever really let me forget… who you are and who I am.  In terms of social status, that is."

 

Slipping her hands between her thighs, Yoruichi looked away, a strange ache in her jaw.  "I thought you didn't care about that sort of thing," she said. 

 

"I didn't.  Still don't," Kisuke hurried to say.  "But unfortunately, everyone else does.  And now that you're being groomed for command… I guess it started to look bad to have someone like me as a friend."

 

Yoruichi dug a hand through her hair in frustration.  She was so sick and tired of this, this utter nonsense concerning who she could and could not associate with.  Her own father had chosen Kisuke and his mother, had he not, as people he deemed worthy of his court?  Did he not allocate time to spend with Kisuke himself on a regular basis, something he didn't quite so readily do with his own daughter?  It was inconceivable.  What would they have done if she had befriended someone from Rukongai, lock her up?  _I would have to be allowed out of the castle in order to meet someone in the first place,_ she thought.  _Someone like me… What does that even mean?_ She would have been just as exasperated by their reaction if Kisuke had been a commoner, but the fact that they were both part of Soul Society's aristocracy made this downright bewildering.  "You're a noble, too," she said.

 

Kisuke gave her a cynical grin, the kind that held just a touch of condescension.  It made her almost forget about his pitiful state and feel the sudden urge to pummel him.  "There are nobles," he said, pointing at himself.  "And there are _nobles_ ," he added, pointing at her.  "My mom's grandparents lived in Rukongai.  They only made it to the Court as merchants because they were gifted crafters, but they were still commoners.  As is she.  And on my dad's side…" He let out a scoff.  "Well, they don't like to speak of the _glorious_ history of our clan, but it all boils down to my great grandfather impregnating a girl who was a little out of his league, and since she was a minor noble herself, the Uraharas were elevated from middle class to nobility, just like that.  Three generations later and 'lo behold," he said, pointing at himself again.  "Fourth heir to all this _illustrious_ breeding.  And you… well… you're practically Soul Society royalty."

 

Yoruichi scrunched up her nose in distaste.  If she didn't already know relationships within his family were very strained, and with good reason, she would have raged at him.  Still, the point wasn't whether his was family worthy or respect or not; the point was that it had absolutely no bearing on who Kisuke himself was.  "So?"

 

"Are you telling me you never, not _once_ , had someone advise you to cut ties with me?"

 

It was Yoruichi's turn to scoff at the question.  "Shall I point out the obvious?" she said, her eyes turning colder.

 

It had the desired effect; Kisuke seemed to realize what he had just said, and this time, the color on his cheeks had nothing to do with the meal or the tea.  "No need," he said.  "You probably had people telling you every single day, over and over again, but you didn't yield.  And I did."

 

_Yes._ _Yes you did,_ Yoruichi thought, staring at him resolutely, the ache in her jaw returning.

 

"I… I wasn't trying to be cruel," he said, and there was that familiar look in his eyes, the self-loathing he was so prone to.  "I know it's a weak excuse," he hurried to add.  "But I really did think it was for the best.  I figured… it was going to happen at some point anyway, so why not now?  Clean break and all, would probably be less painful than what was already happening." He pursed his lips, glancing down at his knees again for a second, looking as though he was preparing himself to admit something truly unpleasant.  Taking in a deep breath, he continued.  "And I… I really liked that a man like your father had shown interest in me.  He became a mentor, of sorts.  Gave me advice, paid attention to my schooling, spent time with me just talking, or playing shougi, or suggesting books.  I know why he did it, of course, he means for me to become a Kidou researcher here.  But he could have just ordered me to attend the Academy and then have me return to work at the Vault.  Instead, he took a personal interest.  He was kind when he had no reason to be.  And that… that meant a lot."

 

Despite herself, Yoruichi felt her heart contract at his admission.  For the longest time, she had been envious of the relationship Kisuke seemed to have developed with her father.  She didn't know whether it was because Kisuke was a boy, or because her father had met a like mind, but come every fortnight, when Kisuke would wave goodbye to head to her father's study, Yoruichi would resent him a little for it, for the ease with which he had slipped into her father's life and become a welcome part of it.  She wasn't certain whether Kisuke had ever picked up on her jealousy, but Yoruichi had eventually outgrown it, or at least the resentment aspect of it.  It hadn't taken long to see just why Kisuke looked forward to his meetings with her father, and Yoruichi couldn't really hate him for it without feeling like a spoiled little brat, ungrateful for all the good fortune she'd had in her life. 

 

"It's just…  I never had—" Kisuke went on, but decided to swallow his words, as he groaned and reached up to rub his forehead.  "I hate it when my mother is right," he said.  "Anyway, I… didn't want to disappoint everyone.  Not my mom, or your father… not when they've both done so much for me.  So I went along with it and ended up disappointing you.  And I do hate myself for that.  Not just because _I_ was miserable, but because you didn't deserve to be treated that way.  I shouldn't have done it in the first place, but even so, I didn't even have the guts to talk to you about it first.  Fourth generation coward, right here.  Well, third.  My dad wasn't one."

 

Yoruichi met his eyes. Part of her wanted to tell him that he wasn't a coward, but she had lost count of the times she had called him one herself during their separation.  In one particularly shameful moment of her life, she had buried her face in Kuukaku's stiff embrace, tears spilling out of her uncontrollably as she repeated the word again and again, in between chest-racking sobs. 

 

"I missed you," Kisuke said.  "I am so, _so_ sorry."

 

Yoruichi tightened the grip around her legs, resting her chin on her knees.  She wanted to hate Kisuke for how he had reacted to the pressure, for coming here out of nowhere and spilling his guts out to her, for handing his heart out so readily for her to stomp upon if she so wished, for looking so tired and miserable.  Letting out a sigh, she deliberately stared at the table when she spoke next.  "My mother was subtle about it.  Well.  _Her_ version of subtle.  She was the one who suggested I train with Kirinji," she said.  "I thought it was going to be both of us at first, like with Tessai's lessons, but she said we couldn't always attend the same classes, and started talking about my future responsibilities, and how my time for 'social calls' was going to dwindle," she said, pausing for a few seconds before she continued.  "It was your mom who talked to you, wasn't it?" she asked, glancing up at Kisuke.

 

He hesitated for a while, lips slightly agape as he considered how to answer.  "Yes," he finally admitted.  "It wasn't personal—"

 

"I know," she said, nodding, and she meant it.  But it still hurt, knowing that a woman she was fond of had asked her son to stop associating with her.  She supposed it was only fair; Kisuke had had to deal with the disapproval of her entire family.  "All my parents could ever do to me was scold me, but she had her job to worry about.  And your education.  I get why she asked you to keep your distance.  So… it's okay.  I'm not going to hold a grudge or anything.  We can still talk in class every now and then."

 

"What?"

 

Yoruichi arched one eyebrow at that.  _What do you mean, **what**?_  "That's what you came here to tell me, isn't it?  Explain why we can't hang out anymore?"

 

"Actually… I came to tell you I was an idiot for listening to them in the first place and ask if you were willing to be my friend again."

 

It was Yoruichi's turn to gape, and while it wasn't a deliberate mirror to what he had said, all she could manage was, "What?"

 

Kisuke smiled at her.  "I guess I decided to take a leaf out of my dad's book."

 

He sat there, looking hopeful and apologetic and absolutely infuriating.  _I hate you.  I really, **really** hate you,_ she wanted to scream.  _You can't just… I'm not just going to write off **months** of silence and neglect and— COWARD, COWARD, **COWARD**!  I— I HATE YOU.  You could have—  But you didn't.  And now you just **waltz** in here, with your pitiful apologies and your smiles and I'm just supposed to… what?  I won't.  I… I won't—_

 

Jaw clenched, Yoruichi tried to still the flames of anger rising up within her, part of her wanting to lash out, loathing this impotent, silent rage, and part of her wanting to just have this over with already, to have her best friend back.  "Won't that get you in trouble?" she asked.

 

"Probably," Kisuke said, shrugging, no hint of a lie in his eyes.  He truly did not care.

 

And just like that, Yoruichi decided to let it go.  Well, not entirely.  She'd make him work for it, perhaps let him grovel a little more in the near future, and as for her pent-up anger, it was nothing that a good sparring match wouldn't help relieve.  After she got in a good blow – _Or twenty-_ she knew things would return back to normal, or as normal as they could be, given their circumstances.

 

"You can't do that," she said.  "What about your mom?"

 

"I… I don't know," Kisuke said.  "I'll figure something out.  Your father… I don't think he would ever take it out on her; he's not that kind of person.  But I imagine she's going to be pretty disappointed."

 

"You said before that you decided to take a leaf out of your dad's book," Yoruichi said.  "What did you mean by that?"

 

"Oh, uhh…" Kisuke said, all of a sudden blushing.  She didn't think the question was particularly indelicate, but since he hardly ever talked about his family, Yoruichi assumed he didn't feel very comfortable divulging more information about them than he already had.  Still, he showed no more signs that he wasn't willing to answer, and went on.  "Well, my mom and I… We don't get along with her in-laws very well.  You probably figured as much.  They don't like her."

 

"Really?" Yoruichi said.  "I mean… I sort of knew, but I always thought something had happened between them."

 

"Something did.  Or rather, _she_ did," Kisuke said.  When Yoruichi gave him a puzzled look, he elaborated.  "My dad married her.  And she was a commoner."

 

"Oh," Yoruichi said.  "So this whole thing is a bit of a déjà vu, for her.  I get it now; she doesn't want you to feel like she did."

 

"Pretty much, yeah."

 

"So… how did _they_ deal with their situation?" 

 

"They eloped and my dad built them a new home away from his family," Kisuke said, giving her a grin as he rubbed the back of his neck.  "I'm… guessing that's not an option for us."

 

Yoruichi shook her head at him, chuckling.  _Dork_.  Five minutes back into her good graces and he was already taunting her.

 

"It did give me an idea, though," he said.

 

"Oh?"

 

"I'm going to need some time to pull it off," Kisuke said.  "Would you mind pretending for a little while longer?"

 

Yoruichi shook her head.

 

"Good," he said, beaming at her.  "I'll let you know when I'm done."

 

"You gonna fly up to my window again?" she asked, smirking.

 

"I… think I might try passing you a note in class, or something," Kisuke said.  "Less danger of plummeting to my death that way."

 

She returned the smile, her eyes locked upon his, watching as he fidgeted with the cloak again, his face split into a broad grin. 

 

"I should… get this back," he said after a while, holding the cloak up.

 

"Yeah, okay."

 

Yoruichi got up from the table when he did and leaned back against the wall, observing him place the cloak around his shoulders and secure the knot again.  She walked him over to the window, preparing to say goodnight, when she felt his hand brush her shoulder timidly.

 

"Are we… are we okay?" he said, his expression hopeful, but somewhat wary as well.  "Truly?  Because I swear, I'll do anyth—"

 

"We're okay," Yoruichi said.  She was tempted to let him ramble on, start clocking some of that groveling she was itching for, but it was clear he'd had a long weekend and was dead on his feet.  She couldn't kick him when he was down, not with a clear conscience. 

 

Kisuke stared at her, letting out a sigh.  "I keep screwing this up, don't I?" he said.  "First I lied to you for months when we met, now this…"

 

"Well… you do make up for it with grand gestures," Yoruichi said.  Kisuke smiled again, only this time it was different, the kind of smile he displayed only when he was very pleased with himself, and that usually involved one of his _projects_.   Realization dawned on Yoruichi.  "It's another grand gesture, isn't it?  Your _idea_."

 

"Huge," he said, grinning at her.

 

"Do I get a hint?"

 

"Sure.  Just the one though; I like surprising you."

 

"Well?"

 

Kisuke pursed his lips together in thought; she assumed he was trying to think of the best way to give her the hint she had asked for, while teasing her just enough so she would later on obsess over it.  It certainly wouldn't be the first time.  "Underground," he finally said.

 

_Oh, geez, he really does need to get some sleep,_ she thought.  _He's losing his touch._ "Well, I already knew _that_.  You said secret."

 

Kisuke didn't respond, but simply stared at her.

 

"Wait," Yoruichi said.  "You were being literal?"

 

It was when Kisuke shrugged very ostentatiously that Yoruichi well and truly felt it was possible for them to return back to normal; he had always enjoyed his theatrics when unveiling or alluding to the fruits of his labor, and it was a very welcome sight to witness again.  That was also when she realized he really was planning something special. 

 

"Kisuke!" Yoruichi said, grabbing his sleeve as he made for the window.  "Seriously."

 

Kisuke grinned at her.  "A month.  Month and a half tops.  Then you'll know."

 

Yoruichi let out a sigh, rolling her eyes at him.  "Show off."

 

Kisuke laughed as he checked the knot on his cloak one last time.  He was about to step onto the windowsill and head off, when he turned around, hesitating a little before he reached for her and have her a quick, one-armed hug.  "Thank you for not giving up on me," he whispered into her ear, then pulled away quickly.

 

Though she understood it to be a gesture of genuine affection, one that she appreciated, Yoruichi couldn't help but tease him a little for it, acting as though it was nothing but a ruse.  "Uh-huh… I'm still having you do all my homework for the foreseeable future," she said.

 

"Anything you want," Kisuke said, chuckling as he sat onto the ledge.  "After I'm done."

 

"With _underground_."

 

"Yup," he said, letting his legs drop on the other side and looking at her over his shoulder.  "Good night."

 

With a push he slipped off, looking more than a little relieved that the cloak hadn't failed him.  Kisuke turned around for one last look and a wave, then slowly began to soar toward the grounds below.   "Good night," Yoruichi called after him, keeping her eyes on him until he was firmly on the ground.  

 

Yoruichi sat down on the floor, arms folded on the windowsill, watching the light-colored cloak move swiftly through the grounds until it disappeared through the front gate.  Letting out a sigh, Yoruichi ran over the night's events in her head, still having a little trouble believing it had all transpired.  Within the span of an hour, she had reconciled with Kisuke, and he had proclaimed to have found a solution to their common problem.  It sounded a little too good to be true and despite his contagious grin and hopeful attitude, Yoruichi was certain his so-called _underground_ surprise wouldn't be quite so easy to implement as they both hoped.

 

Still, if there was one advantage to one's best friend being a genius, it was that their surprises truly did put everyone else's to shame.  Even if they didn't always work as intended.

 

* * *

 

 

**APRIL 23 RD, 1909 A.D., KARAKURA TOWN, JAPAN – 1 P.M.**

 

With the two young Death Gods now well on their way back to Soul Society, Kisuke made his way back to the storage room.  To his great surprise, he found himself humming, _actually_ humming as he did so.  It struck him then, that he could not remember the last time he had ever felt so optimistic about a situation, so light-hearted.  Even for a soul, eight years was a long time to go through, seeing no light at the end of the tunnel.  But somehow, just when he'd thought things would turn bleaker, a glimmer of hope had made an appearance instead.

 

His elation lasted exactly 3.7 seconds, before a hand shot through the darkness and grabbed the front of his clothes.  "What.  The _HELL—_?"

 

"Okay, okay," Kisuke said, holding his hands up.  "Now before you say or do anything—"

 

"DID YOU _DO_!" said Yoruichi, pushing him up against the wall and flicking the light on.

 

"Like that, yeah."

 

Hands still held up in appeal, Kisuke stared at Yoruichi's enraged face.  Though she had transformed back into her real form, there was a very feline look about her face as she glared at him, teeth bared and pupils dilated in anger.  Breathing hard through her nose, she let go of his shirt, her expression turning into one of disappointment.  If only she knew how much more powerful a weapon it was, the mere notion that he had let her down, Kisuke knew Yoruichi would never again turn to anger.  

 

"We've been doing _so_ well for years! _Years_ , Kisuke!" she said.  "And now you're just throwing all of it away, all our efforts—"

 

Kisuke reached up to wrap his hands around her own.  "Look, I _had_ to do something," he said.  "They followed us back here—"

 

"I heard."

 

"So it was either kill them, or let them go back and report what happened.  I generally go for hidden option number three," he said, giving her what he considered to be one of his most winning smiles.

 

For a fraction of a second, it seemed to work.  But Yoruichi, by now all too familiar with all his diversionary tactics, slipped her hands out of his grasp and turned to pacing the room.  "UGH!  I just… I don't like this.  It could backfire—"

 

"Yes, it could.  And if it does, no-one knows you and Tessai are here."

 

"Say that again and I _will_ honestly turn violent, Kisuke," Yoruichi said, holding up her index finger.  The sudden, sharp movement of her arm caused her bare breasts to bounce.  

 

"Look… can we…? I… It's… _very_ difficult to talk to you when you look like this, you know, it disorients me."  Having known Yoruichi for more than three hundred years and having been her lover for nearly two decades now, Kisuke was no stranger to her various moods and expressions.  They had laughed together, fought together and occasionally fought with each other, but he had never before seen her look at him with such blood-curdling rage as she was right now.  _Abort, abort, one more joke and she may actually kill me dead._   "Just… hear me out for a minute?  Please?" he said, dropping the comedy angle for good.

 

Yoruichi very deliberately crossed her arms, still staring daggers at him.  "You have thirty seconds."

 

"If what they said is true, then this is an opportunity, Yoruichi.  Didn't you hear?" he said.  "Not everyone bought Aizen's tales; they _know_ they didn't get the whole story about what happened that night."

 

"So, what, you're thinking we can get enough support?"  Yoruichi asked him in disbelief.  "Return to Soul Society?" 

 

"Of course not, Aizen's had too much time on his hands to prepare for this," Kisuke said.  "We'd be blindsided."

 

"Then what opportunity are you talking about?"

 

"Soul Society doesn't want anything to do with us.  Doesn't mean we don't want anything to do with _them_ ," he said, grinning at her.  Yoruichi could only stare back in confusion. "Give me an hour, and I'll present you with a business plan—"

 

"ARE YOU _SERIOUSLY—_?" Yoruichi began, then cut her sentence short, shutting her eyes and drawing a deep, calming breath.  "I just… I can't…"

 

"Hey, it beats selling candy."

 

"Oh, _Kisuke_ …" she said, rubbing her forehead.

 

"I could finally build a gigai for you."

 

Yoruichi opened her eyes again, now staring at Kisuke with a mixture of affection and exasperation.  "Please don't tell me that's where this hare-brained idea originated from."

 

Feeling like it was finally safe to approach her, Kisuke took a few cautious steps forward.  "I spend half my waking hours in this place and we're only just breaking even.  But if it all goes as planned, I'll have _actual_ materials to work with.  I could make our lives easier, bring back comforts that were only available to us in Soul Society.  And hell, we might even make a profit out of it, too.  I mean… it's not a treasure trove, but I'm pretty sure I can sell the occasional Death God a handy trinket or two.  Judging from what happened a couple of days ago, Karakura Town is well on its way to becoming as interesting place.  Those two won't be the only ones patrolling our town in the future."

 

"So let me get this straight: you're not only hoping that these two _and_ the Death Gods who will surely follow aren't going to report us, you _also_ think you can make a profit out of them?"

 

"Well, Kisuke said, stepping up in front of Yoruichi and reaching up to stroke her arms.  "I don't like to brag—"

 

"Yes, you d—"

 

"—But I think the first head of the SRDI could whip up a thingamabob or two that would appeal to your round-of-the-mill Death God."

 

"You're willing to take a lot on faith," Yoruichi said.

 

"Yes."

 

"Why?"

 

_Because we can't keep doing this._ For the past eight years, he had lived in constant fear that both Yoruichi and Tessai would eventually grow tired of playing at being human, tired of the constant vigilance, tired of _him_.  Playing by the rules had never suited him, after all, and all it had done for them in this world was allow them to lead an only barely passable existence.  He wasn't a fool; their few comforts had been hard-earned, and he would never place them under unnecessary risk, but he was tired of surviving.  He was ready to _live_ again.

 

"Because if the risk doesn't pay off, nothing changes for us," he said.  "We were going to have to move as it was, soon enough.  But if it does… we could make new rules for ourselves.  Maybe even find a thing or two we can enjoy in this human world."

 

Yoruichi looked away, the final few vestiges of hardness and anger abandoning her face.  Instead, she now looked simply exhausted.  Kisuke knew exactly what she was thinking, because he had been thinking about the same thing for a while, too.  For Yoruichi, the notion of freedom had always been a very literal one: the freedom to go anywhere, to do anything, to be anyone she pleased.  Balancing the desires of her own heart and the expectations that came with being the head of a prominent clan had always been a delicate task, one that she had performed admirably for many years.  It followed then, that her exile to the human world should have been, at least in some respects, a joyous moment.  But instead of exploring the world she had longed to see since they'd been children, she had been forced to stay, to keep him from falling apart.

 

And she had done that, she had endured eight years of almost literally being trapped within four walls, because she loved him.  If abandoning her family, her friends and her status to save him and Tessai had been the greatest act of love she had ever performed, then this was a very close second.

 

And if he loved her, as he claimed he did, he could not keep doing this to her.

      

"Come on, admit it," Kisuke said, reaching out cautiously to stroke her cheek.  "You're starting to like the idea."

 

In response, Yoruichi met his gaze again, but said nothing.

 

Taking this as his cue to give this one, final push, Kisuke wrapped his arms around her, bringing his face close to hers, foreheads nearly touching.  "You could travel.  Finally put those maps of yours to good use."

 

A brief, but very obvious glimmer shone in Yoruichi's eyes at the sound of that.  She licked her lower lip, staring intently at him, as though she was trying to ascertain if he was serious or not.  "That would mean leaving.  For extended periods of time," she said after a long pause.

 

"I know," Kisuke said, nodding.  "And I'll miss you.  Reunion sex should be pretty good, though."

 

Yoruichi reached up to punch him in the chest, but she was smiling, and so was he, genuinely smiling for the first time in years, a deep, throaty laughter escaping his lips at her mock-offended grimace.  She didn't break eye-contact, drawing small, lazy circles on his bare chest with one finger, until she spoke again.  "I'll think about it," she said.

 

"Good," Kisuke said, reaching down to give her hand a soft peck.

 

_"Do you ever feel trapped?"_

_Not anymore.  And never again._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a huge fan of the mean family trope, but Kisuke seems to always react to verbal (and sometimes physical) abuse calmly and rationally, which makes me think he must've had a fair amount of practice. This is exactly why I decided to use his family as one of the pressure points in this chapter. I realize that what you just read included a Kisuke far, faaaaaar removed from the one seen in the series, but I do believe that given enough pressure and the inexperience of youth, Kisuke wouldn't have always been Mr. Cool. I wanted to show how he slowly gets there, and his family plays a big role in that. On that matter, bear in mind that nearly all information the reader gets on the Uraharas comes from Kisuke, who is undoubtedly biased. They're not all horrible, obviously, but there's enough bad blood between them that Kisuke refuses to give any of them a chance for now and lumps them all together. 
> 
> And yes, in case you were wondering, that is the same cloak Ichigo uses to rescue Rukia. 
> 
> Depending on which translation one reads, the date at which Kisuke and Yoruichi built the training grounds becomes a little fuzzy. In the anime, Yoruichi implies they were kids and that they built it together, while in the manga, she says they were young and that Kisuke was the one who built it. Given the choices I've made in the story so far, a scenario in which they created the training grounds together wouldn't work. More on that in the chapter that follows. 
> 
> On a final note, I know there was a severe lack of Yoruichi POV, but that will be remedied in the next chapter, which is entirely focused on her.


	5. Wanderlust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last time I post a chapter this big in one part, I swear (I have a thing for themes, sorry :/ ). The following chapters should not only be easier to cut off at a more reasonable point, but I can also just post them in two parts and save you the headache. 
> 
> The use of Osaka in this chapter was inspired by the fact that Hiyori, Lisa and Shinji (and Gin, though not relevant here) are all written as speaking with a heavy Kansai accent. Generally speaking, it's meant to be the Japanese equivalent of a Southern American accent in terms of the connotations it carries, which is why you often see the two matched in anime fansubs (personally, I've always had a very soft spot for both).
> 
> Cultural notes:
> 
> Furisode: Formal kimono with a full body pattern and very long sleeves (the longer the sleeves, the more formal the occasion). Suitable for unmarried women.
> 
> Obi: The wide sash wrapped around the waist of a kimono, ending in a decorative knot on the back. Certain knots (like the one described in this chapter) indicated a girl's availability for marriage.
> 
> Mugicha: A drink made from barley meant to resemble tea and often consumed cold during the very humid Japanese summer. 
> 
> Momiji Matsuri (Maple Festival) & Momijigari (Noh Play): The Noh play Momijigari mentioned in this chapter tells the tale of Taira no Koremochi, who visits a mountain during Momiji Matsuri to hunt, when he comes across the beautiful princess Sarashina and her retinue sitting under a maple tree. They offer Koremochi and his men sake, until they are drunk and pass out. When Koremochi wakes up, he finds that the princess has turned into her true form, that of a demon. 
> 
> The maple tree and its leaves are ubiquitous in Japanese culture. Westerners are more familiar with the cherry blossom imagery, but the maple motif is just as woven (if not more so) into their poetry and art, symbolizing a myriad of things, such as the passage of time, lovers, regeneration/resurrection and, indeed, the Japanese concept of Mono no Aware. Much like Hanami Matsuri, the cherry blossom equivalent, Momiji Matsuri is dedicated to appreciating the beauty of the maple's crimson leaves and takes place during Fall. One of the more known Japanese varieties of maple tree is called Benihime, the Crimson Princess. Interesting, no?
> 
> Enjoy!

**MAY 9 TH, 1909 A.D., KARAKURA TOWN, JAPAN - 10 P.M.**

 

To the casual observer, it might have been a day like any other.  Waking up, breakfast, work, lunch, more work, some rest and then dinner.  She certainly tried to act like it was a normal day.  But he hadn't been fooled.

 

That night, when Yoruichi followed Kisuke upstairs, she could tell that he had picked up on her inner turmoil and was simply humoring her by playing along.  When the door closed behind them and she threw herself into his arms, they both understood what was happening.

 

She wasted no time talking, choosing instead to put everything she couldn't bring herself to say into her touch.  By the time their clothes lay on a heap on the floor and she moved above him, straddling his lap, they had yet to utter a single word or even lock gazes once.  Shifting her head down, Yoruichi swept her fingers over the thick fringe of hair on his forehead, revealing his eyes, and the look her gave her at that moment sent a sharp jolt of pleasure straight down her center.  Even at their rawest, most depraved moments as lovers, where feather-light touches and playfulness took a back seat to unadulterated need, he had never looked at her this way before. 

 

There had always been a calmness about him, a gentleness.  It was part of the package, the skin of the guileless, candid fool he wore on a daily basis, and though she understood it was a front, she had never felt that the softness he often addressed _her_ with had ever been counterfeit.  His smile, the warmth in his eyes, the gentle timbre of his voice filled voids she hadn't known existed before she'd met him.  Yet she was all too aware that he was a lethal weapon wrapped in velvet, and while the casing appealed to the hidden, warmer parts of her, it was the inner core she had always yearned for.  There was fire burning behind the grey depths of his eyes tonight, and for that, she was grateful.  She didn't think she could have dealt with fingers raking through her hair, knuckles ghosting over her spine, and sweet words –the kind he had always been so damnably good at- whispered into her ear. 

 

Sitting up on the bed, Kisuke suddenly reached up, cupping her face in his hands and bringing her lips crushing down to his.  There was almost a struggle, a tangle of limbs as he flipped her on her back, his full weight pressing her down against the mattress.  And as she clutched the damp hair on his nape while he buried himself within her, she felt the inexplicable urge to weep.  For the first time in years, she wanted to scream with the unfairness of it all.

 

Balancers, they called them.  The protectors of Soul Society and humanity alike, sworn to maintain the equilibrium of souls travelling between worlds.  No-one had ever told her that the greatest balancing act of her life would be the one between duty and freedom.

 

_There is always a price to freedom.  Always._

 

And she had had to earn hers, piece by piece, allowing herself small acts of rebellion that didn't compromise the integrity of the legacy she was meant to carry on.  Choosing to be with Kisuke had been the biggest and most significant such act.  Whatever her vices, they had never been substantial enough to warrant more than petty criticism, never been true weaknesses.  If they had known he was her biggest one, they would have eaten them both alive.  And yet now, when they had all the freedom in the world to reinvent themselves, be whoever and whatever they wanted to be, she had come to find that she had only traded one gilded cage for another.

 

If he had been anyone else, he might have let it all go and followed her, traveling the world and caring about little else other than chasing a beautiful sunset, scaling a mountain, exploring a forest.

 

And if he had been anyone else, she wouldn't have loved him.

 

When she felt it, the familiar tension building up inside her, she reached out, fingertips grazing his cheek.  He must have been distracted by the oddness of the moment, a discordant soft note in an otherwise frantic crescendo, and he paused, pulling back to meet her eyes again.  _That's it.  Just a moment; that's all I wanted_ , she thought.  Just a fraction of his other side, the Kisuke who woke her up with a kiss on the shoulder, who made the hardest, coldest parts of her melt with nothing but a smile.  She wanted to burn the image of his flushed face and parted lips into her very soul, carry it with her like a talisman, bring it out whenever the next few days – _Weeks? Months?-_ felt like a permanent separation.

 

After, when they lay beside each other, spent and sated, he was the one who spoke first.

 

"Tomorrow, then?" he asked, eyes locked on the ceiling.

 

Yoruichi curled up closer to him as he curled his arm around her shoulders.  "Yeah."

 

"You weren't planning on saying goodbye, were you?"

 

"What did you think _this_ was?"

 

"Oh?" he said, turning to look at her, a grin on his lips.  "You're heading over to Tessai's in a bit, then?"

 

She laughed, wrapping her arms around his middle and pressing her ear against his chest, listening as his heartbeat slowly returned back to normal.

 

There was a long silence.  She thought she might have fallen asleep for a few seconds, but for all she knew, it could have been hours before he spoke again.

 

"Write me?" he said, and there was such vulnerability in his voice that for both their sakes, she could only make light of the situation.

 

"That'll be a sight," she said.  "Walking into a post office without a stitch on.   _Hello kind sirs, I wish to mail a letter_."

 

Kisuke chuckled, laughter reverberating in his chest.  "You'll find a way."

 

"I will," she said, sitting up to rest her weight on her elbow.

 

Kisuke smiled at her, running a thumb down her cheek, and pulled her down to his embrace again.

 

It was nearing dawn when Yoruichi slipped out of the bed, certain he had fallen asleep.  Instinctively, she reached out for his discarded robe on the floor, before she caught herself.  Shaking her head, she simply gathered up the pile of clothes and set them up on the chair by the bed. 

 

All of a sudden, she longed for a suitcase to pack.  There was a reason both humans and souls held on to their rituals; they made going through the motions feel more like a checklist, bringing one closer to the end result in harmless, bite-sized little steps.  Choose some clothes, fold them neatly, pack a bag, check it twice… it would all do little other than prolong the inevitable, but at least it would give her the time she so desperately needed to prepare herself.

 

There was only one thing she had ever meant to take on these trips she had often fantasized about, and it still was not an option.  Even so, she couldn't resist the steps that took her over to the nightstand, where the brown leather journal had been placed, by Kisuke, no doubt.

 

Yoruichi flipped it open, and the beautiful, intricate maps contained within stared back at her, begging to be pored over.  She smiled fondly at the memory of receiving the gift, so many years ago.  It ached her to leave them behind, unused and purposeless, but it couldn't be helped.  Still, as her fingers ghosted over the slightly faded blue color, she couldn't suppress a smile at the inscription written there:  North Pacific Ocean.

 

She gave one last look to Kisuke's sleeping form on the bed, before she closed her eyes and allowed the transformation to happen.

 

Within seconds, she had leapt out of the window and down to the street below.  The sun was coming up.  Karakura Town was slowly stirring awake, and soon the streets would fill with passers-by, but for now, there was nothing and no-one blocking her path.

 

The first few steps were the slowest she'd ever taken.  The sleek, agile body suddenly felt too small, too fragile, too stiff, too… everything.  The tiny little heart in her chest began to drum fast, the pads of her paws itching with the urgent need to go back, to hide under the bed, to not complicate things, but she fought the feeling, ignored the whispers in her head:  _Go back.  Go back._

 

When she started running, she feared that she might never stop.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**JANUARY 17 TH, 167 B.H.I., SHIHOUIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

Yoruichi tugged at the sleeves of her woolen kimono, trying to bunch the fabric around her stone-cold hands.  In front of her, Kisuke led the way, hunched over and holding a glowing, pulsating sphere of energy that illuminated only their direct surroundings.

 

It was difficult to calculate their exact position, given the fact that she had no idea how much time had passed since they'd entered the tunnel.  As excited as she was about the impending surprise, by now she had completely gotten over the novelty of entering a narrow, damp burrow leading to the unknown; the piercing cold was getting to her, her sandals were caked in mud, and it was becoming increasingly harder to watch her step when her numb toes snagged on the occasional protruding root.

 

And Kisuke, damn him, was doing absolutely nothing to ease her growing discomfort, but was instead remaining silent.  Yoruichi knew that his regular verbal diarrhea was only ever stopped when one of two things was happening: either he was deep in thought, or he was being deliberately tight-lipped for dramatic effect.

 

_Three guesses which one it is this time._

 

"So when you said underground… you really, _actually_ meant underground," Yoruichi said, in an effort to break the maddening silence.

 

"Yup."

 

 _……I am **so** going to beat the ever-living crap out of you in our next lesson.  No holds barred.  In front of **everyone**.  _ "This is the first of what will probably be many, _many_ questions, but… did _you_ dig this tunnel?" she asked.

"Yup."

 

"Okay, _that_ is starting to get annoying."

 

Kisuke looked over his shoulder at her, grinning.  "Sorry."

 

"And this is… safe?" she asked, glancing up toward the ceiling.

 

"Well… I won't lie," Kisuke began.  – _Bad sign-_ "I didn't get it approved by an architect or anything of the sort," he said.  "But I think my calculations are correct."

 

"Your calculations."

 

Slowing his pace down considerably, Kisuke raised his free hand over to his temple, fingers toying with his hair as his face fell into a frown.  "To understand the massive forces at play when it comes to any structure, especially _underground_ structures—"

 

"Yeahyeakay, I get it," Yoruichi said, holding her palms up.  She didn't doubt that the thought process leading to this had been impressive indeed, but she wasn't in the mood for Kisuke's ramblings right now.  It was amusing, and somewhat endearing to see the sparkle in his eyes when he tried to share his enthusiasm over science with a layman; she would sometimes tolerate the onslaught of baffling terminology just to get a glimpse of that look, but today was not such an occasion.  "You did some fancy math.  That's enough for me; I trust your math."

 

"Oh no," Kisuke said, his eyes widening, mouth screwed into a grimace.  "I think I forgot to carry the one."

 

Yoruichi narrowed her eyes at him, arms folded against her chest.

 

"I was just kid—"

 

"So how did you get all that digging done with all those _bugs_ around?" she asked.  "I swear I saw something twelve-legged and the size of my head scuttling past us a few minutes ago."

 

Kisuke came to a halt, his already pale face going chalk white.  "That is _not_ funny."

 

 _Don't play with fire unless you wanna get burned, sonny-boy._   "Seriously though," Yoruichi said, resisting the urge to cackle at the visible signs of panic in his face.  "Teasing aside, I'm impressed you stuck it out."

 

Giving her a tremulous grin, Kisuke turned around and resumed his pace.  "It's mostly just worms down here.  You get the occasional…"  He paused, and she could swear she heard him swallow.  "Many-legged abomination, but I wasn't digging by hand anyway."

 

Yoruichi took a moment to digest what he had just said, before understanding the full subtext of his words.  "You _blasted_ the poor things away with kidou?"

 

Kisuke shrugged, looking only a tiny bit sheepish.  "It wasn't _deliberate_ ; besides, population control is a well-documented and accepted—"

 

Whatever he said next was lost under the roaring sound of her laughter.  He really _did_ have an answer ready for everything.  "And this took how long?" she asked, as soon as she was in control of herself again.

 

"About a couple of months," he said.  "It's been ready for almost a week now, but you were… Well, I didn't wanna… intrude."

 

She could tell he regretted bringing up the subject; within a few seconds, the atmosphere had gone from carefree to heavy, pregnant silence.

 

For the past month, Yoruichi had had the unfortunate task of making repeated visits over to the Shibas, who were deep in mourning.  Within the span of a week, the two heads of the clan, Kuukaku's parents, had contracted and had been subsequently killed by a rampant infection that was said to have originated from the Rukongai.  

 

Yoruichi was certain that for as long as she lived, she would never forget the stark difference between the Kuukaku who had complained about the burden of taking care of everything at home while her parents 'lazed about with the sniffles,' and the Kuukaku attending their funeral only a few days later, looking shell-shocked.

 

"How is she?" Kisuke said quietly, guilt over broaching the subject written all over his face.

 

"As well as can be expected, I suppose," Yoruichi said, pursing her lips.

 

Kisuke gave a perfunctory nod, then did a double take when his gaze fell upon her face.  "What?  What's wrong?" he said, coming to a stop again and turning around to face her.

 

Yoruichi gave him a disparaging glare, annoyed at both the subject of conversation and the utter discomfort of trying to make eye-contact while hunched over.  "She lost her parents and is now the sole caretaker of her two brothers.  That's not enough?"

 

"It is, but that's not why you just made that face.  There's something else going on."

 

Yoruichi considered brushing off the question; it was neither the time nor the place for serious discussions.  Part of her wasn't even certain she wanted to share this period, despite the fact that it had been weighing heavily on her for weeks now. "It's nothing.  It's… really silly," she said.

 

Kisuke said nothing, his facial muscles relaxing into a softer, more inviting expression.  She knew he would respect it if she chose not to divulge more, but the earnestness in his eyes was making it hard to resist the temptation to confide in him.

 

She let out a sigh, avoiding his gaze.  "Okay, fine, but… keep walking," she said.  "I can't do this with you standing there, giving me puppy eyes."

 

Kisuke chuckled, and unless she was mistaken, Yoruichi thought she saw some color rise on his cheeks before he swept the light source away when he turned.

 

"We— It was a while ago," she began, keeping a steady pace behind him.  "First time I met her, actually," she said, feeling her lips twitch up into a fond smile at the memory.  "We went for a walk and she told me that if she became the head of the family before I had to marry her brother—"

 

The warm, lovely trip down memory lane came to a screeching halt when Kisuke, at the sound of her words, tried to make a sharp turn only to scrape the ceiling with the top of his head. "Ow!"

 

Yoruichi let out a snort.  "Klutz."

 

Without missing a beat, Kisuke met her eyes, a grimace of pain distorting his face as he rubbed his sore head.  "You're… you're marrying her brother?" he asked in a small voice.

 

Yoruichi could only glare at him.  "We're in the middle of a dank tunnel that could collapse _any_ moment now—"

 

"So much for trusting my math—"

 

"—I'm telling you we talked about her parents _dying_ and that's what you chose to focus on?  My betrothal?"

 

If Yoruichi had had reservations about sharing her thoughts on Kuukaku's situation, she was dead set on not acknowledging the betrothal, ever, especially in the presence of Kisuke, who most likely would have far more liberty in his choice of a partner.

 

It was clear as day that Kisuke had had no idea he was going to touch upon a particularly sensitive nerve when mentioning her future nuptials to Shiba Kaien.  Still, judging by his slowly shifting facial features, he was beginning to realize that any further discussion on this matter would only serve to make her testier.  Still rubbing his head, he seemed to be forcing himself to adopt a more sympathetic expression, rather than a shocked one.  "Were you specifically pondering their death, or simply Kuukaku becoming the head of the family?" he asked.

 

"Well… No, there was no _actual_ mention of any deaths, but…" Yoruichi trailed off.

 

Kisuke kept his eyes on her, allowing the silence to stretch, no doubt waiting until she felt comfortable enough to continue before he spoke. 

 

"It's stupid, I know—" Yoruichi began.

 

"It's not stupid…" he said.  "She's your friend and you're sad for her situation."

 

_I was.  I **am**.  But I'm also relieved._

 

There were some things that were better left unspoken.  She had a hard enough time admitting it to herself, that she was glad Kuukaku was going to become the head of her family; she couldn't bear seeing the look of disgust on Kisuke's face if she were to actually speak the words out loud.  She felt plenty disgusted with her own self already.

 

Letting out a huff, Yoruichi motioned at Kisuke to keep on walking.  "How much longer till the blasted surprise?"

 

Mercifully, Kisuke didn't pry any further.  "Almost there," he said.

 

"Where are we even going anyway?" 

 

"Telling you would be spoiling the surprise," Kisuke said with a grin, pressing on ahead.

 

For what felt like three or so minutes, they kept walking in silence, until Kisuke came to a stop in front of what looked like a dead-end.  When he brought the light source forward, Yoruichi could clearly see that they were indeed standing before a thick wall of nothing but dirt.  She might have considered the possibility of them having taken a wrong turn somewhere, if there had been any; there hadn't been a crossroad in sight from the beginning.

 

"Ummm…" she began, but Kisuke held up his free hand and beckoned her forward.  "Oh, is this another illusion?" she asked, thinking of the entrance to the tunnel. 

 

When they had spoken earlier today, Kisuke had instructed her to meet him in the small wooded area behind the castle.  He had explained to her that he had constructed the entrance to the tunnel hidden underneath some thick vegetation, but as an extra precautionary measure, the entrance would be invisible to anyone but the two of them.  Surely enough, when he took her hand and placed it on the solid-looking ground, the illusion broke and she was able to see and feel the trapdoor hidden underneath a thin coat of earth.

 

"That was my intent at first, but it was a bad idea for two reasons," Kisuke told her.  "For one thing, I would have essentially built a tunnel leading straight into your home, leaving it vulnerable to any intruders."

 

In between the excitement and mystique of the surprise, Yoruichi hadn't even stopped to consider that.  "Not good," she said, cringing.

 

"Yeah, not good.  Secondly, it would've been impossible even if I'd wanted to," Kisuke said.  "Remember that time you were staying at the Shibas and snuck in so we could spy on your father's meeting?"

 

"Vividly," Yoruichi said wryly, before catching on to what Kisuke was trying to tell her.  "Oh!  You mean—"

 

"The barrier, yes," he said.  "Think of it like a gigantic sphere of energy, encasing the entire complex."

 

"It goes into the ground, too," Yoruichi said, nodding.  "So only I can pass through?  But wait, if that's true, how did you—?"

 

"I dug the rest of the way outside the castle walls," Kisuke explained.  "While the barrier is very effective, it's simple.  Part of its genius, really, the complexity only lies in its sheer size, but it's more than enough to keep out anyone not authorized.  But anyway, yes, all I had to do was leave a few markers behind so I could pinpoint the exact spot when digging from the other side.  The barrier keeps you outside, but it doesn't block any outcoming signals."

 

"So… if only _I_ can pass through," Yoruichi said, narrowing her eyes at Kisuke.  "You essentially brought me down here to _dig_?"

 

Kisuke flashed her a broad, apologetic smile.  "It's just a spell; you won't have to get your hands dirty."

 

Sighing, Yoruichi shook her head at him.  "This had better be worth all the fuss," she said.  "So do I just—?"

 

"Not yet, wait," Kisuke said, pulling a watch out of his pocket.  "Okay, it's… 3:42.  Three more minutes."

 

"Till what?"

 

"Till your uncle leaves the complex," Kisuke said, keeping a close eye on the watch.  "As brilliant as the barrier is, it has two weaknesses.  Remind me to bring this up with your father before we leave for the Academy, yeah?" he said, grinning.  "Until then, they work to our advantage."

 

"Hold on a second, are you telling me my family is vulnerable to an attack?" Yoruichi hissed at him.  For all their shared enthusiasm when it came to skirting around rules and restrictions, she couldn't believe that Kisuke would have ever deliberately kept crucial information from her family.  Nothing was worth putting the safety of their home at risk; certainly not this.

 

"Not unless you suspect any of your aunts and uncles," Kisuke said.  "But if any of them ever go missing, then yes, I'm definitely telling your father."

 

"Start making sense, please?" Yoruichi said, pinching the bridge of her nose.  _So much for a fun, exciting day._

 

"The barrier doesn't just sit there, looking pretty," Kisuke said.  "There's a mechanism in place so the Vault is immediately informed when the barrier is being breached by anyone.  Over the years, there's been the occasional idiot who thought they could penetrate it by force, so an alert was immediately issued by the system.  This also happens when any Shihouin family member enters or leaves the confines, but this is obviously not seen as a threat."

 

"So where's the weakness?  Sounds like a good system to me," Yoruichi said.

 

"It is.  The problem is that it can tell you when, it can tell you where the breach happens, but not by _whom_ ," Kisuke said.  "It's because of the way the spell is set up; it detects anyone of Shihouin blood and treats them equally, which means that it doesn't differentiate between any of you.  So –and no offense meant- if any of your family were ever to go rogue…"

 

"Oh."

 

"Yup.  This is actually how Tessai caught us that one time," Kisuke explained.  "He saw there was a breach, but knew that your entire family had been accounted for, except for you."

 

"He told you this?" Yoruichi asked.

 

"Not per se, he just looked very smug the day I learned how the barrier worked.  I put two and two together," Kisuke said.  "Now, weakness number two…" Kisuke said, pocketing his watch, his face clouding.  "And this is actually important, so trust me, I won't keep this from your father longer than I have to- your family doesn't need to go rogue for a breach to happen.  If, say, someone were to kidnap your thoroughly unpleasant cousin Akira, there would be much rejoicing, but on a more serious note, they could simply plant him at any point in the barrier and pass through without a hitch," he said.  "You see, the problem is that your spiritual essence doesn't just pass through the barrier; it actually creates a disruption.  It's like putting your hand under a stream of water: the flow gets redirected, but the area below your hand remains water-free."   

 

Though she didn't doubt the accuracy of the information Kisuke was relaying, Yoruichi was finding it hard to believe that such a system flaw had gone unacknowledged for so long.  "And you're the first person who ever noticed this?" she said.  "I mean, I know you're way above average, but—"

 

"I know, yeah: your father doesn't hire idiots, _someone_ would have to have seen this, right?" Kisuke said.  "To be honest, I don't think anyone else considered this because no-one outside of the Vault knows how the barrier even works in the first place, not even junior members of your family," Kisuke said.  "And all Vault researchers are screened so thoroughly and frequently that betrayal by any of them would be nigh impossible."

 

"But not entirely."

 

"No, not entirely," he said, nodding.  "So, if you don't think this is a good idea, I'll understand.  Your family's protection is far more important than us getting to sneak out every now and then.  Think about it."

 

"What, _now_?"

 

"Well no," Kisuke said, chuckling.  "Take as long as you want.  But if you want to see what's on the other side today, it has to be in… five seconds."

 

 _Five… **seconds**?  _ She had to make a decision on whether to share important security information that had so far been undiscovered, but one day very well could be in five _seconds_?

 

" _FIVE—_?"

 

"Your uncle leaves the complex at precisely 3:45, so unless—"

 

Letting out a huff, Yoruichi pushed Kisuke aside and directed one outstretched palm toward the wall of dirt.  With a sharp, controlled gust of released energy, the wall was blasted away cleanly, the two parts of the tunnel now fully connected.

 

Kisuke blinked at her, looking from the small cloud of dust settling to her face and back again.  "Uhhh…"

 

Yoruichi moved to stand right beneath the barrier, spread-eagled.  She looked over her shoulder at Kisuke.  "Well?  I'm guessing it doesn't take more than six seconds for my uncle's carriage to pass through?"

 

Taking the hint, Kisuke immediately fell on all fours and slipped underneath her legs, swiftly crawling to the other end of the tunnel.  While Yoruichi knew he had been honest in his claim that he would've immediately informed her father had she asked, there was an all-too-familiar grin on his face as his entire plan fell into place.  "We're telling your father as soon as—"

 

"Yeah, yeah," Yoruichi said, yanking the scruff of his clothes to get him up to his feet.  "Just lead the way before I think too long about what I just did."

 

Knowing when to shut up and accept victory, Kisuke set forward once more, beckoning her to follow.  Thankfully, the trip from the other side of the tunnel to their final destination was significantly shorter.  They moved in a straight line, rather than the twists and turns of the previous path, no doubt the result of Kisuke having to avoid all underground structures of castle Shihouin while he dug.

 

At long last, their trek came to an end when Kisuke brought her before a small, wooden door. 

 

"This better be worth it," Yoruichi said in response to his broad smile.

 

"I think it will be," he said, his lips twitching higher still and his eyes alight with the kind of mirth that only took him over whenever one of his projects was involved.  He pushed the door open slowly, ever-so-theatrically, then stepped inside into a room steeped in darkness. 

 

Yoruichi followed cautiously, scuffing the ground before her tentatively in search of stairs, or any other change in elevation.  The scant light from Kisuke's spell had been enough to guide them through the narrow tunnel, but right now, it was doing absolutely nothing to illuminate anything farther than a few feet.  Just how big was the room?  

 

Before she could ask, Yoruichi heard Kisuke snap his fingers, then watched as the ball of light split into a group of smaller, intensely bright spheres.  Like little tadpoles, they zoomed up into the air, yellow tails swishing, each coming to settle into a lantern that had been fixed on the walls.  One by one, the lanterns lit up, revealing the room in waves, going farther and farther and farther…

 

With every slice of darkness dissolved, Yoruichi's jaw kept dropping.  When the last few lanterns were lit and she could finally take it all in, she barely suppressed a gasp. 

 

"How did you _find_ this?" she whispered, in absolute awe.  "I didn't think there were any caverns below the Court!"

 

"There aren't," Kisuke said, arms folded before his chest.  "Not any natural ones, at least."

 

"You—!  You _dug_ this?" she said, eyes as wide as saucers.

 

"Mmmm-hm," Kisuke said, grinning at her.  "What do you think?"

 

Yoruichi let out a sound in between a scoff and a peal of laughter.  Even though the large chamber was scantly lit, she could make out most of its structure easily.  Upon closer examination, she could now fully see that the small cliffs and valleys of the cavern where a little too carefully carved to be natural.  They lacked the natural erosion that was found in nature, a little too artificial, too perfect to be real.  There was little else to notice within the chamber, other than its immense size, with the exception of a long ladder all the way to the back wall.  Yoruichi assumed it led up to wherever it was Kisuke had begun digging from on this side.

 

It was nearly inconceivable, the notion that Kisuke had built all of this, for her, for _them_ , in less than two months, but deep inside she knew better.  She knew how single-minded Kisuke could get when a project captured his interest.  And though this particular one lacked the finesse of other, smaller inventions of his, Yoruichi could now fully appreciate the complexity of what it was he had accomplished: the idea, the careful planning, the execution under everyone's noses, even hers.  It was a little rough around the edges to be sure, but a masterpiece, nonetheless.

 

"Just… Remember I've only been working on _this_ part for a couple of weeks," Kisuke said, a hint of an edge in his voice.  "The digging took a long time.  Or rather, figuring out what to do with all the leftover dirt.  There is now a new playground in Rukongai which I hope will one day be named after me," he said, chuckling a little awkwardly.  "But this is just the beginning: I could make the dome much, _much_ bigger and I'm almost getting the hang of this light spell I've been developing with Tessai?  It's meant to mimic actual sunlight, so the lanterns are definitely only a temporary solution, _but_ there's heating!  You can feel it, right?  Coming off the floor?  I'll obviously have to tweak it if we make the cave bigger, but it does the trick for now, doesn't it?  Ventilation was an issue; I've got it resolved for now, but it's been the biggest problem, I'll admit.  And—"

 

"Good lord, will you _shut up_?  It's a work in progress, I get it," Yoruichi said, shaking her head at him.  Quite honestly, she hadn't even noticed half of the things he'd mentioned, focusing instead on the magnitude of the cave instead.  She was only now realizing what he meant about the heating; her feet were no longer frozen stiff, and she felt infinitely more comfortable than she had back in the tunnel.  _How on earth did he get this place heated?_

 

Kisuke looked a little sheepish at her retort.  No doubt, he had expected accolades for all this work.

 

"As far as grand gestures go, this has got to be the _grandest_ ," she said, grinning at him.

 

Kisuke grinned back, now visibly relieved at her reaction.

 

 _Oh, honestly, he's like a damn dog sometimes,_ she thought.  _How could I not like it?  All I wanted was for him to stop rambling._ "So… what exactly is this supposed to be?" she asked.

 

"Just a private area away from prying eyes," Kisuke said.  "You can come here whenever you just want to get away, relax… Even train.  I was actually hoping you might teach me Flash Steps when you get the chance.  Plenty of room here."

 

"I _knew_ you were jealous!" Yoruichi said, pointing at him.  For all his protests to the contrary, she had always known he had been dying to be invited in her lessons with Kirinji. 

 

" _Jealous_ ," he said, rolling his eyes at her.  "I _may_ have been curious to see what the all fuss is about, that's all.  But yes, I meant for this to be a training area, mostly.  And if it ever gets a little too stuffy down here…" he said, slipping his hands in his pockets, then motioning at her to follow with a nudge of his head.

 

It took less than a minute for Yoruichi to realize where they were going.  "Are you _kidding_ me?" she said, staring at the lengthy ladder in despair.  "My feet are practically dead already."

 

"It's worth the climb, I swear."

 

Yoruichi sighed and followed suit, putting each hand and foot on the ladder with utter resignation.  She was tempted to simply Flash Step the distance away, but without knowing where the ladder led, it was a risky move for a relative novice.

 

The climb was long and tedious, and even worse, the alleged prize at the end was not even a little bit worth the effort.  "So… a cave leading… to a cave," Yoruichi drawled as she got up on her feet with a grunt.  It was a significantly smaller area, just as dimly lit, barely the size of her bedroom back in the castle.  There was nothing there save from a small futon, which she guessed Kisuke had brought over to rest upon during the formation of the cavern below.

 

Without saying a word, but looking utterly smug still, Kisuke moved to the back end of the small cave, toward a wall covered with wild vegetation.  As soon as he brushed it aside, revealing a boarded up exit, slivers of light burst in through the cracks between the planks.

 

Having spent so much time in near complete darkness, the appearance of natural light made Yoruichi flinch and cover her eyes at once.  She heard some shuffling, and by the time her watering eyes had adjusted to the sudden assault, Kisuke had taken down the planks, opening up a large exit to… wherever they were supposed to be. 

 

Yoruichi stepped out into the light and over to the small ledge, coming to a stop next to Kisuke.  It had been difficult to tell which direction they'd been headed toward while underground, but she had assumed they would have ended up in some remote area within the Rukongai.  And yet, when taking in the view, it was abundantly clear that they were still very much in the Court. 

 

"Not a bad view, huh?" Kisuke said, taking a seat down by the ledge.

 

Yoruichi could make out the Kuchiki mansion grounds over at the southwestern quadrant and the large marketplace, which could only mean one thing.

 

"Are we…?  The Academy should be right behind us," she said.

 

Kisuke nodded.

 

"Is this the Soukyoku Hill?" she asked, joining him and trying to crane her neck to see if she could make out the Palace of Penitence.

 

"It is," Kisuke said, smiling.  "I know it feels a little counter-intuitive, straight in the lion's den and all, but hardly anyone ever comes here.  I originally thought of building it somewhere in the Rukongai, but all the geological maps I was able to find hinted that there is little other than solid granite beneath the surface.  The soil in the Court is far better for digging.  Lots of clay deposits, too, which is part of the reason why it became the most prosperous area of Soul Society while the Rukongai withered.  Didn't hurt that all Sekkiseki pockets could also be found here, so trade really came out in favor of the original settlers of this area and…" Kisuke turned to look at her. "I… am boring you stiff."

 

"No," Yoruichi said, chuckling.  "I was actually thinking about clay deposits."

 

"You were _not_."

 

"I was!" she said.  "I'm looking straight at one as we speak," she said, pointing at his head. 

 

In natural light, she was able to see just how much dirt and grime they had collected while making their way over to the training grounds.  Kisuke's pale blond hair was caked with clay, which he was just now discovering as he patted the top of his head tentatively.  "There's a stream down by the cliff," he said, grimacing as he held out his soiled hand.

 

"Which would be great if we didn't have to go through the tunnel again."

 

"Yeeaaaaah," Kisuke said, grinning.  "Next order of business is fixing up the tunnel so we don't end up looking like this every time we go through.  I'll get on it tomorrow."

 

"So, to recap…" Yoruichi said.  "Every time I want to get down here I have to check my family's schedule, Flash Step to the back of the castle to the hidden entrance, undo and redo the spell, trek through the tunnel, and then do it all over again for the return trip while keeping my parents in the dark?"

 

"……Too much hassle?"

 

Yoruichi smiled, swinging her legs in front of the ledge lazily as she enjoyed the beautiful view.  "Not for this." 

 

And as she took a deep breath in, she could make out the smell of freshly wet earth, of grass and trees, of a hundred different scents that were absent within the walls of Shihouin castle. 

 

It was a peculiar, unfamiliar, wonderful one, the scent of freedom.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**MARCH 2 ND, 167 B.H.I., SHIBA CLAN MANOR, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

Yoruichi stared at Kuukaku intently, certain her friend had never looked worse in all the time she'd known her.

 

In the months since the funeral of her parents, Kuukaku had lost a significant amount of weight.  The dark circles under her eyes and the pallor of her skin suggested she hadn't been sleeping much, if at all, lately.  Her once lustrous black hair had turned limp and lifeless, her fingernails were bitten down to stubs, and Yoruichi was willing to bet that Kuukaku's only concession in the matter of personal care was the occasional bath. 

 

"Are you sure it's okay?  Me being here?" Yoruichi asked.  "I don't want you to have to entertain guests on top of—"

 

"Oh shut up, this is the most normal I've felt in months," Kuukaku said, downing her cup of tea.  She gave Yoruichi a semi-disappointed glare, before letting out a scoff.  " _Guests._ "

 

"All I meant is that I'm cutting in on what could be your resting time."

 

"I'm resting just fine," Kuukaku insisted.

 

Yoruichi gave her a knowing look.  Damn Kuukaku's pride to Hell; she was clearly not taking care of herself, and Yoruichi refused to simply sit by and watch her friend wither away before her eyes.

 

"It's not about that," Kuukaku said, waving one hand airily.  "It's Ganju.  He had a cold all week long and… well… _someone_ had to take care of the brat."

 

For all her dismissive tone, there was a very haunted look in Kuukaku's eyes as she mentioned her brother's illness.  It would have been an overreaction, Yoruichi thought, if she didn't already know what Kuukaku had actually feared.  Having lost both her parents to an affliction that had originally presented as nothing but a bad cold, Kuukaku probably hadn't left Ganju's bedside for the entire week. 

 

"Healer cleared him yesterday," Kuukaku said, wringing her hands.  "He's fine now.  Fine.  Yes.  We all are."

 

Yoruichi decided not to press her on the issue of taking care of herself at the moment.  Kuukaku was as stubborn a woman as any Yoruichi had ever met; the only thing that might work in her case was gentle, veiled persuasion.  She briefly wondered why the Shiba manor staff hadn't at least brought over a treat under the guise of offering it to Kuukaku's guest, in the off-chance that she would have a bite as well. 

 

It was then that Yoruichi realized she hadn't seen a single member of the staff around since she'd arrived.  The tea room was clean and visibly taken care of, like the rest of the manor, but there wasn't a servant in sight.  Kuukaku had answered the door herself and tea had already been served and on the table when she led Yoruichi inside.    

 

"The place looks…" Yoruichi began, trying to phrase this as delicately as she could.

 

"Better?" Kuukaku said.

 

 _Well… I suppose that's true enough,_ Yoruichi thought, nodding.  _At least all the funeral paraphernalia from my last visit is gone._

 

"I had them take down everything," Kuukaku said.

 

_Them.  That's good; means she hasn't fired her staff for whatever reason._

 

"Elders threw a fit, but I don't give a damn," Kuukaku went on.  "We'll mourn our parents our own way; Kaien and Ganju shouldn't have to live in a friggin' mausoleum until those idiots judge that an _appropriate_ amount of time has gone by."

 

"Good call."

 

"Mmm, you think so?" Kuukaku asked, looking pensive.  She brought her right thumb up into her mouth, biting on the already mangled nail.  "Sometimes… sometimes I wonder if I'm doing right by them."

 

"Why would you ever think that?" Yoruichi asked.

 

"Well… They shouldn't have to pay the price for my insolence, you know?" Kuukaku explained.  "It could damage their future.  And more importantly… Hell, for all I know, they could actually _like_ this lifestyle, they don't have to follow my lead.  Maybe… maybe digging my heels in every time the elders suggest something isn't the best way to go about this."

 

Yoruichi had to force herself to take a breath and calm down; storming out of the manor and demanding a meeting with the Shiba clan elders was not going to help matters right now.  _How **dare** they?  After everything she's just been through!_   Though she didn't expect Kuukaku's lifestyle would ever be accepted by the rest of her clan, Yoruichi had hoped that for the foreseeable future, they would have at the very least tried to support her.  Kuukaku's Coming of Age Day was but two years past, and already she was being called upon to act as the family head, in the only issue that mattered: taking care of her brothers. 

 

"Suggest something?" Yoruichi said.  "What have they been telling you?"

 

"Nothing much, for now.  They're actually being rather delicate with me, orphan child and all that," Kuukaku said, a wry grin on her lips.  "But they've made it clear in the past that my wild, single days should have long ago reached an end."

 

"And you agree?" Yoruichi asked, hoping the answer was negative.  Appreciating and sympathizing with Kuukaku's difficult situation was worlds apart from actually living it; Yoruichi understood as much, and she wouldn't blame her friend if she ultimately chose her family over her own desires.  It was undoubtedly the brave thing to do, but not the right thing to do.  Not for Kuukaku.

 

"I think that I could probably stomach playing nice for my brothers; networking, being a proper little Lady and all," Kuukaku said.  "I've certainly done it before.  But I draw the line at marriage; I'm not spending the rest of my life having some dweeb of their choice heaving and grunting on top of me."

 

Though the subject matter was making her a little uncomfortable, Yoruichi was glad to hear her friend was willing to find the balance between making sacrifices and tending to her own future. 

 

Kuukaku rolled her eyes at Yoruichi's blush.  "Remind me to have a talk with you, _soon_ , about what happens when a man and a woman love each other _very, very much_."

 

Despite her best efforts to make the blush disappear, Yoruichi could feel her cheeks burning even more at Kuukaku's comment, but she grinned at her friend.  She didn't doubt that the older girl would be a far greater well of information than her reluctant mother –frankly, _anyone_ would- but this was neither the time nor the place for such a discussion.  "My mother already had that talk with me," Yoruichi said, trying to look dignified.  "Only her words of choice were _a Lord and a Lady._ "

 

Kuukaku let out a snort.  "So commoners grow on trees, then?" she said, grinning; the difference that simple expression made upon her weary face was astounding.

 

Yoruichi laughed, shaking her head.  "It was pretty terrible," she said, realizing that she now had a golden opportunity to take Kuukaku's mind off the rest of her troubles.  "Wanna hear?" she said, deliberately sinking down to the pillows by the table, cradling her lukewarm cup in her hands.

 

"Do I ever," Kuukaku said, mimicking Yoruichi's pose.  " _Please_ tell me the words 'eel' and 'cave' were used."

 

Yoruichi launched into a narration of the events that had taken place the day her mother had decided to educate her on the facts of life.  It had been the most awkward conversation Yoruichi had ever had with another person, not to mention one of the briefest.  It was clear she was only being given the minimum information possible, in as broad strokes as her mother had been able to convey it, but she hadn't dared ask any questions.  Despite the brevity of the discussion, Yoruichi made certain to prolong her description of every uncomfortable look and expression, glad to see it was entertaining Kuukaku to no end.

 

As the older girl listened, her pose became more and more relaxed, her eyes slipping shut.  By the time Yoruichi was done recounting the exchange, Kuukaku had passed out on the pillows and was now fast asleep. 

 

Satisfied her plan had worked, Yoruichi set her cup back onto the table quietly.  She got up on her feet, traipsing along the room silently on tip-toes to retrieve her travelling cloak.  She placed it over Kuukaku's curled up form, careful not to make any sudden movements, but she had a feeling that after the week she'd had, Kuukaku would not awaken if a canon was firing on the lawn outside.  Yoruichi moved over to the table again, starting to clean up.  She didn't know what exactly the situation was between Kuukaku and her staff, but it looked as though no-one was going make an appearance any time soon.  She didn't want Kuukaku to wake up to a mess she had to clean up on top of everything else. 

 

She was carrying the tray filled with cups and a teapot out of the room, when she nearly ran into someone out in the corridor.  The tray in her hands rattled as she tried to steady herself, and Yoruichi looked up, only to come face-to-face with Kaien.  Though she had come across him every now and then during her visits and seen him last at the funeral, Yoruichi had never found herself alone with him before.  It was suddenly dawning on her that she couldn't remember ever saying more than 'Hello' or 'Goodbye' to him.

 

Kaien stared back at her, equally surprised.  He was just a touch shorter than her now, still very boyish in terms of looks, but the last few months seemed to have aged him prematurely.  His normally bright, startlingly green eyes looked clouded these days, but he carried himself with a kind of dignity more suited to a far older man, with a poise Yoruichi could only admire.

 

"Oh, hello!" Kaien said, quickly masking his surprise with an amiable smile.  "Kuukaku said you were coming over; I didn't know when."

 

Yoruichi wanted to say something profound, express her condolences and sympathy once more, but all she could manage was:  "Hi."

 

"What are you doing with these?" Kaien asked, motioning toward the tray, a bemused expression on his face.

 

Yoruichi wished he would be more formal with her.  Having to deal with Shiba Kaien in friendly, casual terms was not something she had ever anticipated, nor something she was equipped to deal with any time soon.  It was far easier to resent him, however unfairly, when they didn't interact at all; speaking to him, even making small talk, made him more real to her, reminded her that he had no more control over their betrothal than she did.

 

"I just—" Yoruichi began, looking over her shoulder.

 

Kaien followed her gaze into the tea room.  When his eyes locked upon the sleeping form of his sister, his eyebrows shot up.  "You got her to sleep," he said, turning back to Yoruichi to give her a grateful, beaming smile.  "Here, let me help you—" he said, reaching for the tray.

 

"It's okay—"

 

Kaien wrested the tray out of her grasp, then motioned toward the end of the corridor.  Yoruichi had no desire to spend more time with him than she absolutely had to, but she couldn't very well up and leave.  _Or can I?  I could make a run for the door._  It was a fleeting, and ultimately immature thought, so she resigned herself to her situation and followed Kaien.

 

"The staff are terrified of her," he said, chuckling.  "She's been trying to do so much herself, she just keeps scaring them off.  They only come out before meals and at night, to clean up."

 

"I think she's been doing just fine," Yoruichi hurried to say in defense of Kuukaku.  She didn't want to pick a fight with her friend's brother, though she had to admit, his comment now made it far easier to resent him once more.

 

Kaien nodded, stepping into the kitchen at the end of the corridor.  "So do I," he said, setting the tray down on one of the empty counters.  "This wasn't criticism."

 

 _Damn.  Back to square one._ "Right."

 

Kaien turned around, one hand on his waist.  "Is something wrong?" he asked, frowning.

 

"I— No, nothing wrong," Yoruichi said, looking away.  How was he able to carry on conversation like that?  Was he so oblivious?  Did he not know about the possibility of their shared future?  "I'm just… You… you _know_ , right?  About…?" she said, pointing from herself to him and back again.

 

"Oh yeah," Kaien said, and to his credit, he now appeared to be slightly uncomfortable as well.  "Yes, I was told a while ago.  But here's the thing, and no offense to you, you're…" he began, but seemed to think better of his chosen words and simply cleared his throat, cheeks reddening.  "It's just the farthest thing from my mind right now.  But you're very kind to my sister, when everyone else is being…  And I like you.  What I've seen of you.  And I would very much like to be your friend, too.  So… Do you think maybe we could just push that whole awkward situation aside for now?"

 

"Push it aside," Yoruichi repeated, seizing Kaien up.  "And do… what?"

 

"Well…" he said, rubbing the back of his neck and staring at the ceiling in thought.  "Do you like dogs?"

 

"Not really.  More of a cat person."

 

"I bet you'll like Kiba VII," Kaien said, pointing an index finger at her and giving her what he probably considered a very winning smile.  And with good reason.

 

"The _seventh_?"  Yoruichi said.  "What happened to the other six?"

 

"Age mostly," Kaien said, slipping his hands into his pockets and leading the way out to the corridor again.  "Except for Kiba III and Kiba IV."

 

"And what tragedy befell these two particular Kibas?" Yoruichi asked as she walked alongside him, grinning.

 

"The third Kiba jumped into one of Kuukaku's experimental canons right before detonation.  Yeah, I know," he said, upon seeing Yoruichi's expression of mixed disgust and pity.  "And the fourth one ran away after Ganju kept trying to ride him, but we told Ganju he got sick and died."

 

"Wait, don't people usually try to soften the blow for kids when something happens to pets?" Yoruichi asked.

 

"Tell that to your friend," Kaien said.  "I think she was trying to make sure he wouldn't ride the next one.  I'm surprised there even _was_ a next one, to be honest.  Sis is getting soft in her old age."

 

Yoruichi laughed, and went on laughing as she and Kaien made their way out into the garden.  While they didn't quite have the rapport she and Kuukaku had established over the years, Kaien turned out to be pleasant company. 

 

 _Even if we do end up with a worst case scenario,_ Yoruichi thought, _At least my betrothed has a sense of humor._   

 

****

* * *

 

 

**MARCH 11 TH, 154 B.H.I., SHIHOUIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

Yoruichi stepped out of her bedroom clad in nothing but a slim, white under dress. Once she had secured it at the waist with a thin string, she looked up to find that her living room had been turned into a veritable kimono display shop.  As Mizuho sat by quietly, awaiting instruction, Yoruichi's mother paced in front of the beautiful silks laid out on stands, looking pensive. 

 

"The gold one, for certain," she said, pointing at the kimono in front of her.  It had a cream-colored base, sleeves that hung more than a meter long, and the entire body had been embroidered with golden thread in the shape of wisteria blossoms.  There was only a touch of bold color at the hem; crimson.  As much as she didn't look forward to what was going to happen for the next hour or so, Yoruichi had to admit that her mother had impeccable taste.  "Show me the obi again," she told Mizuho.

 

The handmaiden brought forward two crimson colored obi, one hanging over each arm, holding them out before her mistress.

 

"Mmmm, too ostentatious," her mother said, pointing at the one embellished with flower designs.  "A plain obi will be a better fit for that furisode.  This one," she said, pointing at the second one, a fully crimson obi with very subtle gold stitching running along its length.  "We'll go with a puffed sparrow knot."

 

_A puffed sparrow knot?  Am I going to a promotion ceremony or a ball?_

 

Mizuho gave her mistress a bow and set about preparing the furisode for Yoruichi.

 

With a flourish, Yoruichi's mother turned to her, a broad smile on her lips.  "What do you think?"

 

"No 'Open for Business' sign?" Yoruichi muttered under her breath as she approached her mother.

 

"What was that?"

 

"I said I saw an auspicious sign," Yoruichi said.  "A small spider by the bed; should be a good day.  And the furisode is lovely, mother."

 

"I'm glad you like it.  Hurry now, or your father will have a fit," she said, as Mizuho stepped up behind Yoruichi, holding up the golden furisode.  "Hair and makeup first."

 

Yoruichi knelt down on a pillow before her kotatsu, where a temporary cosmetics station had been set up.  The tabletop was riddled with various brushes, containers and towels, all surrounding a multi-tiered, laminated box containing the powders and pigments that would be used on her face, but it was missing the one thing that Tamako, her mother's hair and makeup specialist, was just now carrying forward as she emerged from Yoruichi's washroom.  The slim, middle-aged blonde woman held a metallic bucket in one hand, the handle wrapped around a towel.  Tamako set the bucket down on a base right next to Yoruichi, and the younger girl only barely suppressed a grimace at the sight of the hot, steaming wax.

 

Before the makeup process could even begin, Yoruichi would have to sit through the thoroughly nasty hair preparation.  Mizuho knelt down behind Yoruichi and began brushing her hair briskly.  It wasn't the most pleasant sensation for her scalp, but it paled in comparison to what was about to follow.  Once Yoruichi's hair was as sleek as it would get, Tamako came forward to kneel by her side, dipping a wooden comb in the wax.  For the next few minutes, Yoruichi groaned and hissed as her hair was sectioned into five thick, glossy strands, each one held together with the wax solution.

 

Once Yoruichi's hair was adequately prepped, Mizuho switched places with Tamako, taking over the styling portion.  As Tamako opened up a container full of oshiroi, the white powder that would serve as the base for the makeup, Yoruichi had the chance to finally breathe.  The hardest part was over.

 

Tamako threw the oshiroi along with some golden-brown powder into a laminated bowl, starting to mix them together with water.

 

"Chin up," her mother said when Tamako approached once more, this time carrying the bowl and a flat brush coated with the makeup mixture.

 

"I don't understand why I'm getting so primped," Yoruichi said, as Tamako pulled her underdress down to her elbows.  "Everyone else there will be in uniform."

 

"Are you a member of the Onmitsukidou?" her mother said, raising a cup of tea to her lips.

 

Yoruichi looked at her out of the corner of her eye.  Her mother looked positively sanguine as she sat across the kotatsu, with her tea and her sweets, Yoruichi resentfully noted.  She was observing the process with complete apathy, as though she didn't go through the exact same ordeal every single time she had to make a public appearance.  Although Yoruichi knew she enjoyed the ritualistic nature of the beauty regimen, she couldn't imagine she found every single aspect of it to be agreeable.  _All I'm looking for is some sympathy, mother._  

 

"No.  Not _yet_ ," Yoruichi said, jaw clenched as Tamako swept the flat makeup brush up her neck and under her chin.

 

"Precisely," her mother said.  "When you do become one, you can attend any and all events in uniform.  Until then, however, you are a representative of this family alone."

 

 _And I suppose representing my family without a burned scalp is a big no-no,_ Yoruichi thought, sighing.

 

Little by little, every hint of her skin disappeared under the oshiroi mixture.  Tamako would apply a coat, then rub the excess off with a towel.  The process was repeated again and again, until Yoruichi's face, neck and shoulders shone like amber.  Right beneath her hairline at the nape, only three steep prongs had been left untouched and makeup-free.  Mizuho was just about done piling up Yoruichi's hair into a bun when Tamako began to redraw all the facial features that had been erased under the thick layer of oshiroi.  Dipping a small, delicate brush into the dark red, safflower pigment, she meticulously painted Yoruichi's lips, while Mizuho used the same substance on her nails.

 

Just as the finishing touches were being applied, the door to Yoruichi's apartment opened and in came her father, dressed in one his finest kimonos: crimson, embroidered with golden lotus flowers, and surely meant to complement hers.  Yoruichi had no doubt her mother was the culprit behind the day's both sartorial choices.

 

"Good morning! How are we doing in here?" he said, approaching the cosmetics station.  Both handmaidens paused their work briefly to bow low to their master.  "Ah, excellent," he said when he took in their work.  "You look lovely, my dear," he told Yoruichi.

 

"Thank you, father," Yoruichi said, keeping her eyes focused forward so Tamako could finish applying a coat of charcoal on her eyebrows.

 

"Another twenty minutes, then?" he said, turning to his wife.

 

"Half an hour.  I want one final check before she's out the door," Yoruichi's mother said.

 

"Good.  I shall not keep you," he said, heading back toward the door.  "The guard will be here in thirty minutes."

 

As the door closed behind him and Tamako observed her handiwork closely, Mizuho stood up to fetch the furisode.  Her mother followed suit, cup of tea still in her hands.  Tamako declared Yoruichi ready, and helped her up on her feet.  Yoruichi made her way into the middle of the room, where Mizuho awaited holding up the golden furisode, and held her arms up.  The two handmaidens spent the next ten minutes adjusting the waist, the sleeves, correcting their work over and over as per her mother's instructions, until they could achieve the perfect fit.  By the time they were ready to tie the obi into a complicated knot, Yoruichi's arms were already aching a little, but she held her tongue; she didn't want to clue her mother in to the fact that she had spent yesterday afternoon training in secret with Kisuke.  She'd already had a hard enough time trying to hide the small bumps and bruises before her morning bath.

 

True to her word, her mother had her ready by the twenty second mark, spending the remaining ten minutes giving directions to the two handmaidens for adjustments here and there.  Just as Mizuho carefully pinned a headdress of wisteria blossoms on Yoruichi's hair, there was a knock on the apartment door, signaling that the guard was ready for her.

 

Yoruichi's mother approached her, her eyes sweeping over every inch of her body for any last-minute corrections.  Once she was satisfied with the end result, her shrewd, sharp gaze suddenly softened.  Yoruichi was tempted to frown at the odd sight, but that would mean going back to the makeup table.  She suddenly reached out, a curled finger hovering under Yoruichi's skin.  It stayed there, never making contact, as her eyes took on a far-away look.  "How time flies… You're almost a woman now," she said, in a gentle voice Yoruichi didn't normally associate with her mother.

 

The moment didn't last long, however, as she quickly collected herself and motioned the two handmaidens forward.  The two women helped Yoruichi up into her platform shoes and her mother opened the door to the apartment, letting the guard in.  

 

The four men clad in Shihouin purple saluted once, then settled into a star formation around Yoruichi.  When her mother gave them the all clear, the five of them stepped out of her apartment, slowly making their way down to the castle entrance. 

 

Yoruichi kept reminding herself to keep her back straight, her chin parallel to the ground and her hands gently folded before her lap, all the while maintaining a balance on top of platform shoes.  Once or twice, she felt her sole slip a little, the silken socks providing little in the way of friction, and she nearly lost her footing.  Contrary to Kuukaku, Yoruichi's past public appearances were few and far in between; it was one of the things she had always been grateful to her parents for, but right now, she wished she had had a little more actual practice playing the part of the princess.

 

The long, precarious walk out of the Shihouin wing and down the winding stairs came to an end when Yoruichi came face-to-face with her beaming father, who was waiting by the exit to the courtyard.  The soldier leading the guard took a step aside, allowing her father to reach for her hand, before stepping back into position ahead of them both.

 

Yoruichi took her father's hand, watching as a group of a dozen people clad in black came up to the front: all twelve of them family members, all sporting the traditional Onmitsukidou uniform.  The small procession, with Yoruichi and her father bringing the rear, began its walk across the grounds, heading for the Onmitsukidou complex where the new Captain's promotion ceremony was about to take place. 

 

Yoruichi's eyes fell upon a familiar face, one she hadn't seen up close for some time now.  In fact, she hadn't expected them to cross paths again until six years past his departure.  "Akira graduated early, I see," she said to her father. 

 

There was a glimmer of pride in his eyes as he nodded.  "He did.  Four and a half years.  Not a personal best for our family, but impressive all the same."

 

As the eldest child of Yoruichi's youngest uncle, Akira's entire life had been shaped by the Onmitsukidou culture.  Though all four Shihouin brothers had close ties to the corps, Yoruichi's father was the first member of the family who had ever voluntarily abdicated his rightful position as Captain to focus on developing the family Vault instead, a choice two of his brothers mirrored in the future as well.  As such, it was the youngest of the four, Akira's father, who had been passed the mantle of Captaincy.  His sudden and early retirement due to severe injury marked this as the first time in history where the Onmitsukidou would not be governed by a Shihouin.  Yoruichi had no doubt Akira now felt the future position of Captain should rightfully be his.

 

 _An early graduation from the Academy and instant promotion to Squad Leader upon entry to the Onmitsukidou,_ Yoruichi thought.  _Not bad for someone who only learned to kick properly twenty years ago._

 

"I bet I can do better," Yoruichi said, giving her father a conspiratorial grin.

 

"So do I, my dear," he said, returning the expression full-force.  "If you ever decided to go."

 

The response nearly knocked the wind out of her lungs.  Not once, in her 146 years of life, had she ever doubted that she would one day be joining the Soul Reaper Academy.  In retrospect, she never remembered considering any other options; it had simply been a given. " _If_?" she said, frowning.

 

"Well, it's a little unnecessary, isn't it?" her father said.  "You are doing beautifully so far in your private lessons, and any additional training you could potentially miss from the Academy curriculum you can make up for in the Onmitsukidou.  I have no doubt you'll pass the entrance exam with flying colors."

 

"Every other member of our family went to the Academy," she said.  "Yourself included."

 

"Which is why I know enough to see that given a few more years, you will no longer have any need for it," he said.  The perfectly calm, broad smile gracing his face told Yoruichi that he had no idea the subject matter was even the least bit distressing to her.  As her words finally sunk in, however, there was a shift in his expression, a look of sudden understanding and he turned to her.  "You _do_ understand I am complimenting you?"

 

"I— Yes, father."

 

"Then why the disappointed expression?"

 

Why, indeed.  It really was quite the compliment, to be told that the Academy training would mostly be a waste of time for someone of her talent, but she couldn't summon the tiniest amount of gratitude for the kind words.

 

"I just… I thought I was meant to attend, that is all," she said, in a tone she could instantly tell wasn't the least bit convincing.

 

"Your cousins are worthy representatives of the Shihouin name," her father said. "But they do not possess your gifts; they needed the added guidance.  _You_ are exceptional, Yoruichi.  Why waste time in the Academy when you could join the Onmitsukidou a few years earlier?  You have nothing to prove."

 

"I thought you said that I would need to cover some gaps in my education when I first join the Onmitsukidou anyway."

 

"Yes, and I have every confidence you will do so quickly," he said.  "I also believe that said training will be far more focused on your goal in the Onmitsukidou than it would be in the Academy.  After all, the Academy is primarily meant to train future Soul Reapers and Kidou masters.  There are many Onmitsukidou members who never attended."

 

 _Though none from our family._  "You are right, father," Yoruichi said, forcing herself to at least speak in a marginally more convincing tone.

 

Her father smiled at her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.  "You still have a few more years of schooling," he said.  "If, by the time you have completed it, you are still worried about joining the Onmitsukidou without the added training, we can always arrange some extra tutoring."

 

"Thank you, father."

 

If asked in the future, Yoruichi was certain she would never be able to recall much of the ensuing events.  Not entering the complex, or any bit on the ceremony.  She would only recall sitting stiffly by her father's side, her face frozen and her eyes unseeing, never once moving on being aware of her surroundings until she found herself across the new Onmitsukidou Captain.

 

Awakening with a start, her mother's earlier words rushed in her mind.  _Sasagawa Mitsuru, three hundred and forty, heir to one of the most prominent families among the Shihouin retainers, second only to the Fengs._ Along with that salvo of information came the realization that she was staring blankly into a spot just north of Sasagawa's shoulder.

 

Blinking, she made eye contact with the man, forcing her face back into a smile.

 

"And this can only be your lovely daughter," Sasagawa said to her father, turning his deep blue eyes back to her.  "Princess Yoruichi, it is an honor."

 

Yoruichi gave him a curt, polite nod.  With her mind otherwise occupied, she hadn't taken the time to observe him during the ceremony.  She was surprised to see that he was nearly of a height with her, short and stout; not the kind of man she would have ever pictured as a master assassin.  However, his gruff commanding voice and deep set eyes helped him project a natural air of authority, the kind she could see herself one day responding to. 

 

"I suspect it won't be long before you join our ranks yourself?"  Sasagawa said.  "Unless I'm mistaken, you are a hundred and forty years old?"

 

"And six," Yoruichi said.  "One hundred and forty six."

 

It did occur to her that she needn't have corrected him.  After all, in the grand scheme of things, six years was not unlike a drop of water in the ocean that was a soul's life.  

 

But they did matter to her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**MAY 20 TH, 1909 A.D., A FEW MILES OUTSIDE OF NARA, KANSAI REGION, JAPAN**

 

It had taken miles upon miles of traveling to realize that she was deliberately avoiding the sea. 

 

Yoruichi had tried to rationalize it as a simple lack of orientation, but the mere attempt had been so laughably feeble, she'd had to face the truth: after the first few days of exploration, she had fallen back on her safety option, following instruction once again.  Shortly after his suggestion that she travel, Kisuke had made an off-hand comment at dinner one night:

 

_"Would you do me a favor?  If you have time, could you look up Hirako's group when you're away?  They were in Osaka, last I heard, so if you plan on going as far as Kansai, maybe you could visit, see what they're up to."_

 

She hadn't given much thought to it at the time, answering the question with a perfunctory nod and gone about her business.  But right now, she was shocked to discover she had been heading down the Nakasendo trail from Edo – _No, remember, **Tokyo** \- _to Kansai after all.  The realization was enough to make her come to a screeching halt.  She spent the rest of the day in the forest right outside the city, unwilling to take another step forward until she had collected her thoughts.  Hunting down the catch of the day was enough of a distraction for a few minutes, but once her meal was over, she found herself curled up on top of a mossy, stone lantern by the side of the road, and back to her previous dilemma.

 

Part of her reasoned that visiting her old friends wasn't at odds with her goal of traveling.  It was no more than a stop along the way, and a chance for some actual conversation which, she had to admit, she was starting to miss.  And yet, the more she mulled it over, the more she saw that the issue wasn't a small break in Osaka, or the fact that Kisuke had made a suggestion she was following through upon, but rather the fact that she was avoiding the coastline, despite her original plan.

 

_What am I so afraid will happen if I do?  What—?_

 

Her musings were cut short by the sight of a young deer, standing only a few feet away from her.  It wasn't the animal itself that was unexpected –she was in Nara after all- but rather its attitude toward her.  So far in her journey, animals hadn't actively avoided her, but even cats had given her a wide berth, instinctively knowing she was not one of them.  She hadn't stayed long enough to see how the scenario would eventually play out, too fearful of a stranger catching on to the oddity of the situation.  This was the first time she had come face-to-face with an animal and no human in sight.

 

The deer hesitated, its brown, innocent eyes looking a little wary at the strange cat's puffed up fur and raised haunches, but it took a few shy steps forward.  Little by little, it closed the distance, and Yoruichi felt the hairs on her back slowly return back to normal.  What was the worst that could happen, really?  The deer came to a stop just barely out of reach, extending its neck out carefully to take a sniff at her. 

 

If she were in human form, she might have smiled.  Instead, she settled for blinking once, very slowly, before standing up on the tips of her paws to gently bump noses with the deer.  The animal let out a sudden snort in fear, recoiling.  Yoruichi didn't flinch, just stayed in position, waving her tail merrily.  After a long mental deliberation, the deer approached her again, this time a little more confidently. 

 

It wasn't as easy to do as it had been in Soul Society, but Yoruichi carefully reached out to the creature's skittish essence.  It took a little prodding, but before long, she could read the animal as well as she had been able to read anyone in the past: the deer understood she was different, other, but its wariness was outweighed by its curiosity.  The second time around, it reached out to her, rubbing its warm cheek against hers. 

 

The next morning, Yoruichi returned on the road, heading straight for Osaka.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**APRIL 4 TH, 148 B.H.I., THE WHITE WAY GATE, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

 

"This is it."

 

"Are you having second thoughts?" Kisuke asked.

 

" _No_."

 

"Because this was _your_ idea, you know."

 

"And you went along with it quickly enough," Yoruichi snapped at him.  "I just… need a moment."

 

"Okay."

 

Yoruichi bit on her lower lip, eyes trained on the gigantic man blocking the way in and out of the White Way Gate; Jidanbou, Kuukaku had called him.  And though he was there mainly to keep drifters out of the Court and not prohibit nobles from leaving, she had this irrational fear that he would somehow sense they were headed somewhere they weren't supposed to be and send them both summarily back to the castle.  Kisuke, having visited the Rukongai himself a number of times in the past, had no such worries.

 

As expected, it hadn't taken long to sell him on the idea.  Frankly speaking, Yoruichi was more than a little surprised he hadn't ever suggested it himself before.  Perhaps he had thought they were already taking enough of a risk by even being outside castle walls every day, and entering a public place was pushing things a little too far.  It had certainly occurred to Yoruichi, but what was the point of rebelling in the first place if they weren't going to do it properly?  Kuukaku had escaped the confines of her family home many times when she was their age and even younger, without ever getting caught.  Yoruichi had grown tired of living vicariously through her friend's exploits; it was time to take the plunge herself.

 

"My mom never comes down to the Vault," Kisuke said.  "I told her I was spending the day there; she'll never check.  And your parents won't be back till the evening.  It'll be fine."

 

Yoruichi ran the plan over in her head once more, trying to make sure she had all her bases covered.  Unfortunately for her, there was a far larger number of people in the castle who checked on her on a daily basis, and escaping them all was going to take more than a casually thrown lie.  Sakumo and Hibiki would never enter her apartment uninvited, so there was no need to worry about them.  Yoruichi had taken the time to be particularly bratty to Mizuho for days now, so that she would only come wait on her if directly asked to do so.  Faking an illness had been trickier to pull off, as she had to fool the court Healer as well.  In the end, all she'd had to do was imply that her ill disposition was nothing that wouldn't pass in five to seven days, which sent the Healer leaving her room with apologies and a slight blush set on his cheeks.  After that, the only other precaution she could take was order enough food to her room to last her a day.

 

There were a thousand ways her lie could be discovered, starting from her parents returning early from their visit to the Hamasaki clan, but most of them were highly unlikely, and if she spent any more time hesitating, she would end up ruining her own plan by leaving them with barely enough time to spend outside before they absolutely had to return.

 

Taking a deep breath in, Yoruichi straightened her back and marched forth.  A couple of seconds later, she heard the sound of rushing footsteps as Kisuke joined her, grinning from ear to ear.  She could feel her heartbeat pick up as they approached the gate, the small of her back now slick with cold sweat, but she pushed herself forward.  _You are **not** backing out.  You are **not** backing out._  

 

Her resolution was put to the real test the moment they reached the gate and she was able to fully appreciate just how huge Jidanbou truly was.  It didn't help that he was carrying an axe whose blade was more than double the size of her bed.

 

"Just smile and keep walking," Kisuke said through his teeth, his own smile perfectly calm.

 

Yoruichi felt her knees grow weaker as Jidanbou casually looked down at them when they came to pass through.  She forced her lips into a smile, all teeth.  Jidanbou blinked at her a couple of times, then gave a stiff nod before tearing his gaze away, looking more than a little confused.

 

Next to her, Yoruichi heard Kisuke let out a snort.  "What the hell was _that_?" he whispered.

 

"Shut up!"

 

"A bit less… _sharky_ for the return trip, yeah?"

 

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Yoruichi hissed at him, staring straight ahead as they moved past the official border of the Court and out into the Rukongai.  "You wouldn't even know what a shark was if I hadn't shown you!"

 

Though he made no effort to quell his cackling, Kisuke stopped teasing her, now very ostentatiously wiping tears of mirth off his eyes.

 

In between her own embarrassment at the incident and her anger toward Kisuke, it took Yoruichi a couple of minutes of walking to realize that they had actually made it out of the Court with no incident.  Coming to a sudden stop, Yoruichi turned to look at sight of the Court now hidden behind its massive walls.  Even though it was her home, she knew about as much of it as she did the Rukongai, having only travelled its streets under heavy guard, and only ever to visit another clan. 

 

No longer laughing, Kisuke stepped up beside her, hands in his pockets.  "How's it feel?"

 

"Weird," she said, her gaze still locked upon the glossy white walls and multi-colored roofs.  "I'm torn between wanting to run back in and never returning." 

 

She turned around, taking her first good look at the Rukongai.  The difference was startling: even the first few houses of the outer districts, where living conditions were allegedly better, were practically shacks compared to the lowliest of structures within the Court.  And yet, all the stories she had heard of commoners and their squalor didn't seem to be reflected in what she was seeing; though far more modest in its accommodations, the streets of the Rukongai were clean and well-cared for, populated by cheerful-looking people going about their business.

 

Yoruichi, feeling her face break into a genuine smile this time, looked up at Kisuke, who smiled back.  "Come on," he said, breaking into a brisk walk.  "The first few districts still have dealings with the Court, merchants the and like, so I thought we'd visit District Twenty One, just to make sure there's no chance of you getting recognized."

 

"Is it a long walk from here?" Yoruichi asked, following suit.

 

"No, it's actually right past One.  The first twenty Districts are all spread around the wall in order:  five to the north, five to the west and so on.   And then it keeps going in sixteen concentric rings," he explained.  "Which is why districts get progressively larger the deeper you go in."

 

Though she had heard the stories from his past visits to the Rukongai about a thousand times, Yoruichi asked to hear them once more as they walked on, and Kisuke happily obliged.  He spoke of his great-grandparents, whom he had never met, and of their woodcrafting shop in the Thirty Eighth District.  Of his mother who had only relented and agreed to take him along for a trip while she dealt with some outstanding ownership issues once her own parents had passed on and there was no-one left to take care of the abandoned store.  Of the few nights he had spent in the area during that time, which he had been surprised to see had changed little when he'd visited alone a few years ago.

 

As opposed to her, Kisuke had fewer limitations in terms of what he did with his free time, which he often spent outside the castle when she was unavailable.  The sole, unofficial rule imposed on him for such occasions was that his behavior outside castle walls should reflect his position within the Shihouin court.

 

However much she envied him for this freedom to come and go as he pleased, Yoruichi was glad for his experience on this one occasion.  The area was so much more densely populated and built than the Court that she would have no idea where to begin exploring were she alone.

 

"Ah, there we are," Kisuke said, as they passed by a sign indicating that they had left the First District and were crossing into the Twenty First.

 

Yoruichi had been so absorbed by the conversation that she hadn't noticed the steadily declining state of the districts' architecture.  As humble as the buildings in the First District had been, they had a decidedly well-cared-for look about them.  In the Twenty First District, however, Yoruichi found herself on the receiving end of a very stark wake-up call.

 

"I… Wow," she said.  "I didn't think it would be so… different."

 

She had assumed that the horror stories she had often heard had been little but highly exaggerated tales; to hear people in the Court speak of commoners, one would assume they delighted in criminal activities due to a lack of a moral compass or common sense.  And above all else, they would go to extreme lengths to convince anyone listening that the tales of hunger and death by starvation were isolated incidents, as the appearance of spiritual sensitivity was extremely rare outside nobility.

 

Yoruichi hadn't been naïve enough to believe the criminal element was the result of nothing but a lack of morality, but she was just now realizing that she had more or less accepted the lack of widespread hunger as a fact.  And yet the sight of skeletal strays begging for scraps, of children zooming through the streets with no shoes on, of the countless pairs of gaunt cheeks in the people milling about told a very different story.  If conditions were so much worse in one of the outer districts, what might it be like in the far reaches of Soul Society?

 

"You need a moment?" Kisuke asked.

 

The question bothered her more than it should have.  Though intellectually she understood that Kisuke wasn't trying to be patronizing, nor was there anything of the sort in his tone, Yoruichi felt her cheeks redden at words all the same; she didn't need to be treated like a delicate, fragile ornament just because she'd had a momentary pause.

 

"Of course not," she shot back.  "Where are we going first?"

 

"Uhhh… We could go grab some food, if you're hungry," Kisuke said.  "There's a really good shioyaki stand at the marketplace."

 

His timing couldn't have been worse.  If there was anything Yoruichi didn't want to think about right now it was hunger, though she had to admit, she could really do with some food.  She held back from lashing out again, realizing that it wasn't Kisuke's fault she was feeling so foolish, and decided to humor him.  It was at that precise moment she also realized she had no money on her to speak of.

 

"I'm not," she said.  "But if you are, sure, let's go."

 

Kisuke's face fell into a scowl, head titling to the side slightly.  "It's been a while since breakfast."

 

"So?"

 

"So… usually you're starving right about now."

 

"Well I'm not today," Yoruichi said tersely, quickly losing patience with his insistence.

 

Kisuke didn't take the hint.  Or rather, he took a completely different hint than the one Yoruichi had been desperately trying to convey.  "The food is fine," he said, leaning in a little closer so he wouldn't be overheard by passers-by.  "It might be a little different than what you're used to, but—"

 

"That's not it!" Yoruichi hissed back at him.  "I—!"  She crossed her arms tightly against her chest, unable to look him in the eye.  "I… I don't have any money," she muttered, feeling her face go crimson once more.

 

Money was, in many ways, its own specific kind of freedom, and for all her apparent wealth, she couldn't remember ever handling any actual currency.  Having everything she needed delivered to her with a simple request had always been the norm. 

 

"That's okay," Kisuke said, smiling at her.  "It's my treat."

 

"All right, just… not a very big one," Yoruichi said, shuffling one foot against the ground.

 

On the way to the shioyaki vendor, she tried but most likely failed to mimic Kisuke's nonchalant attitude.  His clothes –modest though they were to her eyes- and unblemished skin would never fool a local, but he moved about as though he belonged there, blending in effortlessly with the crowd.  While he did draw the occasional stare, his casual demeanor was enough of a shield to ward off unnecessary attention, whereas she probably stood out like a sore thumb.

 

Sticking close to him, she tried not to make eye contact with anyone, staring straight ahead as though she knew exactly where she was going.  Still, it was difficult not to take a few sneak peeks at her surroundings, for she had never before found herself in an environment so alien to her usual one. 

 

Stone of any value was clearly not a commodity, as all the houses they passed by were built entirely out of wood.  Most of them were in desperate need of repairs, which the owners had done to the best of their ability, filling in the cracks in paneled windows with leftover scraps of cloth and the missing planks out in their porches with random bits of wood.  There were very few families out and about; all the children she came across seemed to be on their own, or in small groups of their peers.  She did recall once hearing about how citizens in Rukongai tended to build their own families out of completely unrelated members.  From a survival standpoint, it made a lot of sense.

 

What fascinated her the most was the sight of a bathhouse right at the turn leading to the marketplace.  Men, women and children of all ages and sizes filed in and out of the large structure and Yoruichi was tempted to request a stop, but thought better of it.  The mere thought of the expression her mother might have made at the notion was too enticing a thought, but if there was one thing that was bound to make them stand out even more, it would be entering a bathhouse simply to observe.

 

It didn't take long for her mind to be otherwise occupied anyway, as the moment they entered the marketplace, her senses were assaulted by the smell of freshly cooked food.  Yoruichi could practically feel Kisuke's eyes and grin on her as she gaped at the sight, but she was far too famished to care.  The entire street was filled with nothing but small food stands, peddlers shouting at the top of their lungs over the buzzing crowd, advertising their wares.

 

Yoruichi felt Kisuke's hand on hers, but before she could react, he dropped something heavy on her palm.  Looking down, she saw that she was now holding his money bag.

 

"I'm thinking four should do the trick," he said.  "And don't let him try to sell you the really dry, withered ones.  I want the plumpest ones you can find."

 

She blinked at him, taking a moment to comprehend that he was entrusting her to make the purchase.  Part of her was excited at the thought, but there was a nagging worry at the back of her head that she would somehow mess this up, overpay or say something stupid.  "Four?  _You_ are going to eat four mackerels?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

 

"Two for me, two for you," he said.  "We'll grab some dango on the way back, they always bring a fresh batch out after 5 p.m."

 

As much as she didn't want him to spend a lot of money on her, the prospect of food when everything around her smelled so dizzyingly delicious was more than enough incentive to keep from arguing.  Nodding, she pocketed the money bag and made her way toward the shioyaki vendor.  His was clearly one of the most popular stands in the market, judging by the line she found when she got there.  Waiting for her turn patiently, she would dip her hands into her pocket, feeling around for the coins within and trying not to get too nervous about ordering.  She would never admit this to Kisuke, but she paid as close attention as she could to the people ahead of the line, watching how they ordered, how much they paid and how they greeted the vendor.  In the end, she needn't have worried over something so small; the exchange was quick, she paid the correct amount of money, and she headed back to the bench Kisuke was sitting, carrying four mackerels on sticks.

 

"Thanks," Kisuke said, taking two out of her hands, as well as the money bag she handed him back.

 

Yoruichi took a seat next to him, and without further ado, sank her teeth into the snack.  The fish was crispy on the outside, and saltier than anything she had ever tasted before.  It was delicious.  She was just about done with the first stick when she caught Kisuke staring at her, smiling.

 

"What?" she said, the last bite still swirling in her mouth.

 

"You want a third one?" he asked.

 

"No," she said resolutely.  "I'm fine with two, it was just… really good."

 

"I'm glad you liked it," he said, leaning back against the bench and munching on his own piece of mackerel slowly, as he watched the crowds come and go.

 

Yoruichi decided to follow his lead and enjoy her second piece a little more slowly, observing a small group of children playing rock-paper-scissors in the distance.  "How far in have you gone?" she asked Kisuke.

 

"You mean which district?" he asked.  Yoruichi nodded.  "Fifty fourth.  Mom said she was going to skin me alive if I ever went deeper than the Thirtieth, so you know… I had to," he said, grinning.  "Wasn't a long stay though."

 

"How much worse is it?"

 

"Oh, it's… bad," he said, his expression clouding.  "For one thing, I couldn't have stayed long if I wanted to.  Thieves don't fool around over there; here you might get an odd look or two when you look the way we do, but anywhere deeper than the Fiftieth?  They'll sniff you out from miles away.  I took the hint after the first couple of minutes and just got out of there."

 

Yoruichi knew there was a lot he wasn't telling her about his experiences in poorer districts, and to be perfectly honest, judging by the look on his face she no longer thought she wanted to know.  To that effect, she was about to change the subject when the wind was suddenly knocked out of her, the mackerel flying off her hand.  There was the sound of laughter, and just as she turned around to see what had happened, the laughter was cut short.

 

There was a little boy on the ground, his cheeks as sunken as anyone else's in the district, his painfully thin frame clad in a ratty, thin yukata.  Yoruichi was about to give him an only slightly disparaging look for the clumsy end to what was probably a game with his friends, when she noticed the boy was having trouble breathing.  The pupils of his wide, brown eyes had gone miniscule, his small chest rising and falling with rasping breaths as sweat trickled down his forehead.

 

She rushed down to the boy's side the same time Kisuke did, unsure of what she could do to help.  "What's wrong with him?  Should we call for—?" The second she approached the child, however, she saw that his condition got immediately worse.  "Kisuke, what—?"

 

"It's your spiritual pressure," he said, giving her a quick, apologetic glance she had no trouble translating: _Move_.

 

"……Oh," she said, quickly getting up to her feet and putting some distance between her and the boy.

 

Down on the ground, Kisuke placed his hand on the child's chest, his other arm supporting his back from behind.  "Deep breaths," he told him in a calm, soothing voice. "Good, that's really good.  Don't panic, all right?  You're doing great, it's going to be over soon.  Are you feeling better?"

 

The boy nodded weakly, but his breathing was beginning to get under control.

 

Unbeknownst to Kisuke, his words were having a calming effect on her as well.  When they boy had crashed into her, she had momentarily lost control of her spiritual pressure.  It was one of the very first lessons her father had taught her, the need to maintain perfect control both in combat and in social situations; it was practically a necessity for life in the Court, especially in between the Five Great noble clans whose descendants were always blessed with superior reserves of power.  As soon as she'd realized the amount of force she'd instinctively unleashed on the poor child, Yoruichi had feared she may have done permanent damage, but as she witnessed his labored  breathing return to normal, so did hers.

 

"Hey, do you like rice cakes?" Kisuke asked the boy.  He nodded again.  "Stupid question, huh?  Who doesn't?" Kisuke said, digging into his pocket.  "I hear the gentleman over by the end of the square makes the best rice cakes in the district.  Why don't you go get some for you and your friends?  It'll help you get your strength back."

 

The boy looked at the coins gleaming in Kisuke's hand as though he hadn't seen their like before.  Still panting slightly, he glanced from the money, to Kisuke's face, and down to the stick of mackerel Yoruichi had dropped just a moment ago. 

 

For the first time, Yoruichi ventured a look behind the boy, seeing his friends slowly peeking out behind the corner.  She couldn't tell whether the look they were giving her was one of fear or anger.  Probably a mixture of both.  

 

Kisuke urged the boy to take the money once more.  The child hesitated only for a second, before reaching for the coins and muttering a quick thank you.  As he shot back up on his feet, Yoruichi saw him discreetly pocket the dusty piece of mackerel as well, before he sped toward his friends. 

 

Kisuke watched them all go for a few seconds then rose up as well, dusting off his hakama.  Yoruichi knew what was going to happen next, and she had no desire to be coddled into changing her mind, so she cut him off before he could utter a word.

 

"This was a bad idea," she said.  "I shouldn't have… I'm not very good at this yet, I don't want to hurt people."

 

"He'll be fine," Kisuke said, approaching her.  "He just needs to eat something and he'll be right as rain."

 

"That boy needs about fifty years' worth of meals to be fine," Yoruich said, unable to stop thinking about the child's skeletal arms, and the small mountain of food she had waiting back in her room, most of which would surely go to waste.

 

"Look, it's a bit of a culture shock the first time, but—"

 

Yoruichi let out a scoff at that.  "Culture shock?  Now _there's_ an understatement," she said, sighing.  "I could tell you the capital of every single country in the human world, their borders, their language, even some of their customs.  I spend _hours_ nearly every day memorizing it all, fantasizing about the places I'll go and how to prepare for every trip.  And this is my home, my actual home and I don't know a single thing about it."

 

Kisuke said nothing, slipping his hands into his pockets and looking as though he wanted to weigh in, but decided to keep silent all the same.

 

"When Kuukaku's parents died," Yoruichi went on.  "All I kept hearing for months was how it was the filthy commoners' fault, and how their complete disregard for proper hygiene and healthcare had created an epidemic," she said, now watching the long line of food vendors and the people who passed by, buying nothing, but looking in longingly.  "Some of them can barely afford food or shoes, how could they ever afford the services of a healer?  In the Court they also don't tell you how many of them are actually starving.  They make it sound like we're the only ones who ever exhibit spiritual potential, with the occasional anomaly from Rukongai.  I just… I feel so… stupid for not realizing all of this sooner."

 

"You're not—"

 

"Yes, I am," Yoruichi insisted.  "I had this whole… idea in my head about how this day was going to be, and…"  She sighed.  "Well, I can't ever say it wasn't educational, at the very least."

 

"Do you want to go back?" Kisuke asked her.

 

Yoruichi nodded.  Ironically, enough, she had started the day pretending to be sick and now she truly felt like it.  She wanted nothing more than to slip under the covers of her bed and block the world out.

 

"All right," Kisuke said.  "I just need to make a quick stop at this apothecary shop nearby."

 

"What for?"

 

"My mom keeps complaining about chest pains lately and there's this place around the corner that's famous for its herbal remedies," Kisuke said, leading the way.

 

"Didn't the court Healer give her anything for the pain?"

 

"She claims it didn't work, but I know better; she just hates the taste."

 

Yoruichi followed him, this time making certain she kept her gaze trained to the ground.  She didn't care how much it made her stand out at the moment; she didn't think she could stomach witnessing another incident like the one a few minutes ago.

 

"I'll just be a minute," Kisuke said once they'd reached the shop in question.  "Take a look around till I'm back, okay?"

 

Yoruichi nodded, leaning against the wooden, grilled cover of the display in the adjoining shop.  She was running her finger over the _Closed_ sign, trying to think about anything other than the boy and his equally small, underfed friends, when her eyes fell upon something behind the display.  It was an odd shape, one that she was all too familiar with: the shape of the Land Down Under, commonly called Australia.

 

Pressing her nose as close to the grill as she could, Yoruichi took a second look at what was unmistakably a map of the human world.  She placed her hands against the grill, pushing herself back to take a look at the sign of the store.  It was a cartographer's shop, all right, and the display was full of beautifully drawn maps of every single area of Soul Society.  The human world one was the only one in the display that didn't quite fit in, but it was nonetheless drawn with just as much care as the others had been.  The cartographer's linework was sublime, and his attention to detail nothing short of impressive.  Yoruichi's eyes fell back on the _Closed_ sign, just to make sure she had read it correctly, and she let out a groan of disappointment.

 

When Kisuke exited the apothecary shop a few minutes later, she was still glued to the display, fingers itching to touch the soft, cured leather of each and every map in the store.

 

"What are you looking at?" Kisuke asked, approaching her.

 

"It's a map shop!" she said.  "Scratch that, it's _THE_ map shop!  Just… look at them!  Who _is_ this person?  I haven't seen such detailed work before!"

 

Kisuke came up next to her to take a look through the grilled cover.  "It _is_ pretty good work," he said, nodding.

 

" _Good_?" she said, turning to look at him in disbelief.  "It's exquisite!  I can't believe I just ran into—" she went on, but came to a stop as soon as she saw Kisuke's lips twitch upwards just the slightest bit.  "Such an amazing shop.  Right next to the apothecary you wanted to visit."

 

"I know," Kisuke said, clearly feigning surprise.  "What a crazy, random happenstance."

 

Yoruichi tried to suppress a smile with minimal success, looking behind Kisuke at the shop he'd just exited.  "That's not even an apothecary shop."

 

"It's not?" he said, turning around to follow her gaze.  "Well damn, then the medicine is probably a scam," he said, opening up the small paper bag he was holding.  The interior was filled to the brim with kompeito, the colorful, star-shaped candy.  "We should dispose of it at once."

 

Yoruichi chuckled, biting her lower lip and looking up to return his smile. 

 

Kisuke broke eye contact a few seconds later, clearing his throat and turned toward the display of the shop.  "The owner apparently has a bit of a thing for the Human World, too," he said.  "I told him I have a friend who shares his interest and now he really wants to meet you."

 

"Does he?" Yoruichi said, reaching into the bag for a piece of candy.  " _Mom's medicine_ ," she repeated, scoffing.  "Good one."

 

"I got her some last week," Kisuke said, as they started to make their way out of the district and back home.  "Seemed like a good enough excuse," he said, flicking a piece of candy into the air and letting it drop into his mouth.  "Hey umm… listen.  I know this wasn't the kind of day you'd pictured.  I mean, I should've thought it through a little better before I agreed—"

 

"That's okay," Yoruichi said, shaking her head.  "It wasn't your fault.  I'm glad we came here.  It was… an eye-opener."

 

"So… would you…?  Do you want to come back?  Sometime?"

 

Yoruichi mulled it over, tongue rolling over a piece of candy in her mouth.  In many respects, this day had been a complete disaster.  For all she knew, she could return home to find out she'd been discovered, making it an even more disastrous outing.  Sneaking down to the training grounds alone was a monster of a task, and the added risk of being recognized out in the streets made the situation even more complicated.  Was it truly worth it?  Going through all this trouble just to spend a few stolen hours out in the Rukongai every now and then, being haunted by the sight of starving children, much like the small group of girls now dogging their steps?

 

Pursing her lips, Yoruichi reached for the kompeito bag, and emptied a few into Kisuke's outstretched palm.

 

"Uhhh…?" he began, but before he could say a word, Yoruichi casually dropped the bag behind them, going on about her way as though nothing had happened.

 

Kisuke glanced over his shoulder once, turning around just as a small hand reached out of the corner to yank the bag out of sight.

 

"I'll pay you back," Yoruichi hurried to say.

 

"No need," Kisuke said, giving her a very strange look, one she couldn't quite decipher. 

 

"I mean it, it's on me next time," Yoruichi insisted.

 

"Next time?"

 

"Next time," she said.

 

This world, so close and yet so far away from hers, was definitely worth the risk, she decided.  It was definitely worth getting to know.

 

****

* * *

 

 

**OCTOBER 21 ST, 131 B.H.I., KUCHIKI CLAN MANOR, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

As she walked across the grounds of the manor, arm-in-arm with Kuukaku, Yoruichi had to admit that the Kuchiki clan had an eye for exterior decoration.  In her --decidedly biased- opinion, there was nothing in all of the Court of Pure Souls that could compare to her own home's outdoor gardens come Fall, but nevertheless, the Kuchiki manor grounds were particularly beautiful this year.  As the seasons changed, inching closer to the Maple Festival on November, the bright summer colors gave way to the muted, subtler browns and reds of the trees.  Yoruichi took in a deep breath of crisp, evening air, her eyes wandering over the small patches of revelers scattered across the gardens.

 

Kuchiki Soujun's birthday, once the number one social event of the year, had become a far more subdued affair ever since his marriage to Onaga Ayane.  Yoruichi could remember, all too well, the sigh of relief Kuukaku had breathed after the illustrious wedding eleven years ago.

 

"Now the elders can stop trying to pimp me out to the guy," she had said, a sentiment not shared by many other women in her age group.

 

The two really did make a stunning couple, Yoruichi thought, as she watched them converse animatedly with her parents from afar.  Kuchiki Ayane was balancing her son on one arm, a dark-haired, surly little boy, while her husband firmly held her free hand, his smile broad and vibrant. 

 

Kuukaku followed Yoruichi's gaze, fingers toying with the handle of her yellow parasol.  "Is that the grumpiest kid you've ever seen or what?" she said, grinning.

 

Yoruichi let out a chuckle.  "Probably," she said.  "Where's Ganju?  Maybe he could try cheering him up a bit."

 

Kuukaku let out a scoff.  "Yeah, _that'll_ make Ganju's day.  And I dunno where he is; he and Kaien disappeared about half an hour ago— Yoshimoto!" she said, her voice suddenly shifting from casual to the careful, saccharine trill she only adopted in the presence of others.  "How lovely to see you again!"

 

It was an impressive enough transformation all on its own, but Yoruichi truly had to marvel at the speed with which Kuukaku could slip in and out of her artificial identity at a moment's notice.  Her own posture instantly improved, neck and limbs growing stiffer as she turned to look at the gaggle of girls approaching them.  The ensuing conversation was swift and feather-light, the exchange of a few platitudes and promises to keep in touch that would never come to fruition. 

 

"Let's find a better spot, shall we?" Kuukaku said, hurrying her pace.  "I'm dying for a smoke and if one more person—"

 

"Kuukakuuuuuuu!"

 

At the sound of the voice behind them, Kuukaku shut her eyes, letting out a groan.  "Oh, fuck me…"

 

"You _had_ to jinx it," Yoruichi muttered at her.

 

"Shut up," Kuukaku muttered back.  She took a deep breath, her socialite mask falling back in place, before she and Yoruichi turned around to greet the owner of the voice.

 

"Fumiko!  Long time no see," Kuukaku said, greeting a blonde, statuesque girl Yoruichi recognized as a daughter of the Seto clan.

 

Seto Fumiko was accompanied by two of her friends, a pair of brunettes Yoruichi didn't know.  When the group of three walked up to them, Kuukaku made the introductions, identifying one of the girls as a member of the Nomura clan and the other, the girl with the darker, nearly ink black hair as a member of the Muraoka clan.  Though the three girls were pleasant company, Yoruichi was growing tired of having what felt like the exact same conversation over and over again within the span of a few short hours.  She had to wonder just how Kuukaku was able to endure this, flitting from event to event to keep the elders of her clan pleased enough.

 

Even Kuukaku's perfect veneer of a perky social butterfly was beginning to crumble; Yoruichi could now see the slight effort behind the façade.  Conversation became more strained, the two of them struggling to find a new topic of conversation as the three girls showed no signs of moving on ahead, when salvation arrived in the form of Kaien.

 

It seemed as though in between their every meeting lately he gained about an inch in height and a pound of muscle; he was quickly changing from a boy into a young man, much older-looking than his actual years.  And judging by the ripple effect his appearance caused in the three other members of their small group, she wasn't the only one who had noticed Kaien's transformation.

 

"My apologies for interrupting," he said, flashing the girls his beaming smile.  "Sister," he said, turning to Kuukaku.  "Ganju was asking for you.  He's over by the west entrance of the manor."

 

Kuukaku hid her elation well, but to the practiced eye, the look she gave her younger brother was easily identifiable as nothing short of eternal gratitude.  "Fumiko, Hanae, Miyako, I'm afraid we'll have to catch up at another time," she told them, faking a disappointed sigh.  "Duty calls."

 

"Such a shame," Hanae Nomura said.  "I haven't spoken to your brother in ages.  Must you go as well?" she asked, turning to Kaien.

 

"I'm sure Lord Shiba has better things to do than chatter with a group of strangers," the Muraoka girl said, putting up a very poor show of trying to avert her eyes from Kaien.

 

"Any friend of Kuukaku's should feel free to address me by my first name," Kaien told the girl, meeting her shy eyes head-on.  "And I would be delighted to keep you company.  Go on, sister, Lady Yoruichi," he told them, hands folded behind his back.  "I'm feeling particularly _chatty_ this fine day," he said, shifting his eyes over to Muraoka and giving her a grin that nearly set her face ablaze.

 

Kuukaku grabbed Yoruichi's arm and swiveled her around so fast they nearly tripped.  Eyebrows arched sky-high, she turned to look at Yoruichi, looking both massively relieved and highly amused.

 

"Oh, he's _good_ ," Yoruichi said.

 

"Tell me about it," Kuukaku said, chuckling.  "I dunno where he gets it from; dad, bless him, was… charming in his own way, I guess, but if my mother hadn't practically thrown herself at him..." she trailed off.  "Come on, let's see if Kaien's message pays off."

 

Surely enough, the west entrance to the manor was a prime spot for some privacy.  Having been sealed off for the day, it was neither guarded from within the walls, nor populated by any guests.  Kuukaku plopped down under the shade of a cherry tree and dug out her pipe, leaning against the trunk and stretching her legs.  Yoruichi followed suit, taking off her sandals to massage her sore feet.

 

"Okay," Kuukaku said, letting out a pleasurable moan, a wisp of smoke trailing out of her slack mouth.  "Kaien is officially off the hook.  All is forgiven."

 

"Off the hook?" Yoruichi said, chuckling.  "What had he done?"

 

Kuukaku rolled her eyes, biting down on her pipe as though recalling a particularly frustrating memory.  "The little brat's been pestering me about going to the Academy," she said.

 

"…So?"

 

"So I told him he needs to be patient," Kuukaku said.  "He's barely one hundred and fifty, there's no rush.  He could go in about eight years or so, the damn thing will still be there.  _Look at Yoruichi,_ I said.  _She's not going until next year._   Hope you don't mind I mentioned you; I just wanted to get him to stop whining," she said.  "I'm not being unreasonable, right?  He's _way_ too young."

 

Yoruichi shrugged, trying not to think too hard about the implication that she was meant to be attending next year.  "The Academy does accept even young children," she said.

 

"Kids with no guardians, sure," Kuukaku said.  "But they don't officially start training until they're older."  She sighed.  "He's going through a _phase_ , or whatever, I get it; he needs a change of pace.  But I only want him to go if it's an actual _choice_ , not something he does just to distract himself."

 

Coming out of Kuukaku's mouth, the words sounded sensible, fair even; joining the Academy with the intent to follow the path of a Soul Reaper was not a decision to be made lightly.  And yet the familiarity of it, the calm reasoning of an adult, was stirring something within Yoruichi, something she had long ago tried to bury.

 

"Or maybe you're just making excuses and don't intend on letting him go period?" Yoruichi said, in a tone that was a little harsher than she had intended.

 

Kuukaku cocked one eyebrow, the pipe hanging slack from her mouth.  "Well, aren't _we_ a fucking ray of sunshine today?" she said.  "Where did _that_ come from?"

 

Already regretting her outburst, Yoruichi let out a sigh.  "Sorry," she said, rubbing her temple.  "That was uncalled for."

 

"You're damn right it was," Kuukaku said, fixing her with a wary, calculating gaze.  "But something brought it on.  So spill."

 

"It's nothing—"

 

"If you want me to forgive you, _talk_."

 

Yoruichi hesitated.  This was something she hadn't even shared with Kisuke to date.  Whenever the subject of the Academy came up, he would make vague references as to when _they_ would attend, and what _they_ would get to do once out of the confines of Shihouin castle, and correcting him would not change the fact that he would get to go when she most likely wouldn't.  Perhaps confiding in Kuukaku wouldn't be quite as painful; after all, she had long ago chosen not to attend the Academy.

 

"I… I may not be going," Yoruichi said.  "To the Academy, that is.  Not this year, nor any other."

   

Kuukaku's face fell into a mild scowl at the sound of that.  "How come?" she asked.

 

"Father says it's not necessary," Yoruichi said.  "I'm not sure I agree."

 

"Why's that?"

 

"I would be the first Shihouin heir _not_ to."

 

"And?"

 

" _And_?" Yoruichi said, staring at Kuukaku in disbelief.  "An Onmitsukidou Commander without proper training?"

 

"That's horseshit," Kuukaku said, sticking the pipe back into her mouth.  "You can get more than enough training at home if that's what concerns you.  Just like I had Koganehiko and Shiroganehiko."

 

Yoruichi tried to counter her argument, but found that she couldn't.  If she was being honest with herself, a lack of training was the last thing she was concerned about.  She knew full well that she could take the entrance exam for the Onmitsukidou the following morning and pass with little effort.

 

"Look, I've been drowning in adolescent angst lately," Kuukaku said.  "So I know what all this humming and hawing is all about.  The question is, do _you_?"

 

Yoruichi didn't speak, just wrapped her arms around her knees, wondering if she really was that transparent.

 

"You have this insufferable urge to _prove_ yourself to everyone, when you don't need to," Kuukaku said.

 

"No, I don't!"

 

"Yes, you do," Kuukaku insisted.  "All I ever hear about is how you have to be the fastest, the strongest, the most capable—"

 

"I'm the heir to a highly influential position," Yoruichi said.  "You don't think I need to try my best?"

 

"You already are, kiddo," Kuukaku said.  "No-one will let you take over command of the Onmitsukidou unless you deserve it, and you're well on your way of being more than worthy of it.  I can see that.  Your family can see that.  Why can't you?"

 

"It's just… Every previous head of the family had to go through with it, so—"

 

"I'll tell you why," Kuukaku went on, relentless.  "It's because you need to prove it to everyone else.  Can't have the common folk dissing the Shihouin name behind your back, now, can you?"

 

"Don't say that like it's a juvenile concern," Yoruichi shot back, now starting to get genuinely defensive.  It wasn't just _the common folk_ , either, as Kuukaku had put it.  Far more importantly, if she made the choice not to attend the Academy, she would have to spend the rest of her life dealing with what her extended family would make of the decision. 

 

"Yoruichi, I hate to break it to you, but the common folk already talk crap behind your back," Kuukaku said.  "When they even deign to concern themselves with people like you and I, that is.  You think they will see you as someone who had an easy ride? Well guess what, it's true.  Compared to all these kids out there, you've had advantages in life they can't even dream of.  Advantages that go far beyond a roof over your head and a warm meal five times a day."

 

"I know that!" Yoruichi said, by now all too familiar with what life was truly like in the poorer districts of Rukongai.  Though she was well aware that she would never truly understand what it felt like, leading a life so far removed from her own experience, she could appreciate the extreme social disparity and the massive disadvantages some of her future peers might have compared to her.  "Which is why—"

 

"Graduating from the academy won't change that," Kuukaku said, in a tone not unlike that of an instructor, trying to explain the facts of basic arithmetic to a child far too petulant to listen.  "Kicking their ass in classes won't change that.  _Nothing_ will ever change the fact that you lived an easier life than they did.  The sooner you accept that, the better."

 

 _Well then… what is the point of ever doing anything?_  "So you're saying I'll never be respected?" Yoruichi said, feeling her shoulders sag down in defeat.

 

"Is your father not respected?  Were your ancestors not respected?"

 

Yoruichi didn't know how to answer that.  Her father was one of the most respected men in Soul Society; even his most stalwart detractors would begrudgingly admit as much, but Yoruichi was not her father.  Not even close.

 

"Look, you're better off than most people in our position; you didn't succumb to the brainwashing, hurray for you," Kuukaku said.  "But don't expect to be patted on the head because you finally figured out something others have known since the day they were born: life is fucking unfair.  You're privileged.  Others are not.  Accept it and then go out and do something with it.  Be a fair, strong leader and _that_ , my dear, will earn people's respect."

 

Yoruichi let Kuukaku's words fully sink in as she rubbed the back of her neck, sighing.  "So… I shouldn't go?"

 

"Actually, I think joining the Academy will be good for you."

 

 _Are you kidding me right now?_   "You _just_ said—!" Yoruichi said, throwing her arms up in exasperation.

 

"I know what I said.  But going to the Academy isn't just about the classes."

 

"What else is there?"

 

"Well, for one thing, it'll get you out of your house," Kuukaku said.  "And don't even bother pretending you haven't been chomping at the bit for a change of scenery."

 

And that was the crux of the problem, wasn't it?  Much like Kaien, much like Kuukaku herself, Yoruichi longed to be free of some of the burden that came with being a member of an important family.  If there was one thing her first trip to the Rukongai had taught her, it was how little she knew of the real world, and with every subsequent one she had only grown hungry for more.  But try as she might, she could not defy her own roots entirely.  She wasn't certain she even wanted to.

 

"It'll expand your horizons," Kuuaku said.  "You'll get to meet people from all walks of life, have a taste of what life is like outside the walls of your home.  But this is just my opinion.  Do you really want to go?"

 

"I don't know," Yoruichi said, resting her chin on her knees.  And it was the first perfectly honest thing she had told Kuukaku that day.

 

Was the desire to explore the world clouding her judgment?  Was joining the Academy something she truly wanted to experience, or was it the quickest, most convenient way to escape part of her responsibilities, even if only for a little while?

 

"Well then, it's time to figure it out," Kuukaku said.  "Do me a favor and don't think about anyone else while you make this decision.  Not me, or your dad, or the Shihouin name and all that crap.  You won't be turning your back on your duty; the Academy training doesn't last forever and you won't be taking over the Onmitsukidou for a while, anyway.  So just sit down and think about why you might want to go or not."

 

Yoruichi turned to look at Kuukaku, cheek pressed against her knee.  "That simple, huh?"

 

"It is."

 

"How come you never went?" Yoruichi asked.

 

Kuukaku waved her pipe dismissively, lying back against the trunk of the tree.  "That place would've stifled my creativity."

 

Yoruichi let out a chuckle, pretending to be a little offended at the insinuation.  "Oh, but it's totally fine for _me_ , is it?"

 

Kuukaku shrugged very flamboyantly, her face a mask of utter innocence.  "I like to blow stuff up and most people tend to frown on that for whatever reason."

 

Yoruichi now fell into a fit of full-blown laughter, picturing a younger Kuukaku trying to explain to her instructors why blowing the roof off the dorms had seemed like a good idea at the time.

 

Kuukaku grinned, shaking her head.  "I'm just not cut out for that sort of thing, you know?  Not built for academics and all that," she said, blowing out a ringlet of smoke.  "Too fabulous for it."

 

Though she knew it was meant to be taken as a joke, Yoruichi wondered if Kuukaku understood just how true that statement actually was.  Since losing her parents, Kuukaku had had to push aside her own grief to look after her brothers, perhaps not ever truly taking the time to mourn for her loss in her own way.  More importantly, she had reshaped her whole future, sacrificed her own wants and needs to raise Kaien and Ganju the best way she knew how, all the while staying as true to herself as she could to teach them that they should never compromise who they were in order to please others.

 

Yoruichi was willing to bet she didn't have the slightest idea that she had always been her inspiration.  "Yes, you are," she said with a smile.

 

****

* * *

 

 

**MAY 21 ST, 1909 A.D., OSAKA, KANSAI REGION, JAPAN **

 

The first time Yoruichi saw a cable car, it had been but a few days ago, back in Nagoya.

 

She remembered freezing on the spot, watching the large vehicle heading straight for her as she stood, transfixed.  She was only taken out of her reverie when a kind-hearted human had kicked her out of the way.  She'd sank her nails into his foot, then very deliberately stuck her tongue out at him, for good measure.  He was probably still babbling to himself, trying to rationalize the incident.

 

Aside from the unfortunate encounter, the sight had been amusing enough, she supposed, watching a giant box on wheels packed with humans, but that was as far her interest had extended.  She could only imagine how Kisuke would have gushed about this little piece of human ingenuity.  She had to admit, however, that it had its uses.  Without a map or directions and nothing else to go with other than a name in a strange city, the cable car line proved to be very useful in directing her to her destination: Sennichimae square. 

 

The humans in Osaka turned out to be a far friendlier bunch.  Other than a few dirty looks, the majority of the passengers didn't object to her riding the cable car alongside them, some of the children peeking behind their mothers' skirts to giggle at the curious black cat sprawled out on one of the seats.  One brave little soul even went as far as coming over to pet her, which she decided to allow.  No use throwing a fit if it was going to get her kicked off the cable car by some angry mother.

 

It was much to the boy's chagrin that she disembarked once they reached the square.  He foolishly tried to loop his arms around her as she slipped off the seat, but she was too quick for him and zig-zagged between the passengers' legs to get to the exit, the boy behind her wailing at her to come back.

 

Stepping out into the street, Yoruichi sat on her haunches, taking a good look at the square.  A throng of busy humans milled around her, going about their business.  Once again, she was stunned to see how much daily attire had changed since her days of visiting the country as a Soul Reaper.  Within a few short years, a great number of men's kimonos had given way to an odd, two-piece garment that reminded her of a hakama and overshirt, tailored to a much tighter fit.  Even more surprising was the complete and total absence of samurai in the street.  If she were being honest, it was mostly relief she felt than anything else; the sight of a katana right now would probably make her feel nostalgic and more than a little envious.

 

The square itself was surrounded by buildings, others small and others larger, newer, a patchwork of the present and the past.  One of them, a tall edifice with small, dome-like structures dominating the top was the post office, whence Shinji's months-old letter had undoubtedly been mailed.  In the far corner of the square, a small produce market had been set up.  In between the stands of vendors peddling their lychee and daikon, there was the occasional kitchenware shop, as well as food stands whose freshly cooked wares filled the square with tantalizing smells.  It also held the largest concentration of Koreans she had come across so far, and she couldn't resist lingering just a little longer to listen in on their familiar-sounding, but ultimately alien language as their conversed with one another. 

 

Pleasant though the aroma wafting through the air was, it made Yoruichi's next task far more difficult.  All Kisuke had known and shared with her was that he'd received a coded letter by Shinji from this area, but he had given no information as to where they were staying, or if they were even still all traveling together.  Discovering the answers to those questions, as well as their whereabouts, was going to be her mission, and the smells in the square were doing a far too potent job of covering up any traces of their spiritual force.  _Which was clearly the intention,_ Yoruichi thought.  She had no doubt Hacchi's barrier was just as capable of keeping their essences cloaked, like Tessai's did for them back in Karakura, nor that Kisuke's gigai were still fully functional.  Yet she had hoped for something small, nearly imperceptible, a momentary slip that would go undetected by most, but one which her senses would pick up in this form.  She had no choice but to start searching the surrounding buildings, one by one, in an ever expanding circle.

 

As luck would have it, however, she was able to put an end to her search after she had just barely completed the first patrol around the square.  Out of the corner of her eye she saw her, wandering about the produce market with a bagful of goods; Mashiro.

 

Yoruichi couldn't help but let out a scoff of disbelief at the sight of her.  Though the light brown kimono she wore was decidedly modest and perfectly ordinary, she had clearly refused to conform when it came to her hair, which was still visibly green.  It wasn't quite the vivid color of old, but it was still nonetheless green.  One would think such a stylistic choice would draw more than a few odd looks, but judging by the warm reception Mashiro received from the various cooks and peddlers, if they found her or her hair odd, they had long ago learned to deal with it.

 

Yoruichi suddenly felt terribly fond of Mashiro, though they had spent very little time together in the past.  Something about her green hair, her very refusal to leave her past self completely behind resonated with Yoruichi on a deep level.  She was a piece of home, and after the lonely journey she'd embarked on, Yoruichi was aching for a touch of the familiar.

 

Scaling down the building she had perched upon to have a good view of the square, Yoruichi sped off across the square to reach her.  She kept her distance, waiting until she was walking away from the marketplace before making her presence known.  Slipping in between Mashiro's feet, she curled her tail around her ankles and let out a soft meow. 

 

Behind them, a plump fish peddler let out a bark of laughter.  "Looks like you've got a new friend, Miss Kuna!" he said, chuckling.  "My apologies, I should have packaged the cod a little better."

 

Mashiro glanced down at the cat swirling around her ankles, her brows coming together in confusion.  If the vendor wasn't looking in, Yoruichi might've been tempted to wink at Mashiro, try to mess with her head a little.  If Yoruichi thought Mashiro wouldn't remember her, however, she was dead wrong.  Her large, hazel eyes suddenly went very round, her mouth forming a perfect 'o' and she dropped the bag of groceries, swooping down on Yoruichi to wrap her arms around her tightly.

 

"It's not a new friend!  It's an old one!" she told the vendor, smiling broadly.  "It's Yoruichi!"    

 

"Yoruichi, huh?  Fitting name for a black cat," the man said.  "I haven't seen her around, though, where—?"

 

"Oh, Yoruichi's not from around here!" Mashiro said.  "She's—"

 

 _Crap, crap,_ Yoruichi thought, panicking.  _That's what I get for trying to mess with her first; I should've waited till she was out of the marketplace._   Squirming around in Mashiro's tight embrace, Yoruichi reached up to bump her head against the girl's chin, then started meowing loudly.  She tried to catch Mashiro's eye as she played the part of the loveable ball of fluff, hoping to convey a clear message: _Shut up._

 

"Oh, would you look at that?" said a female voice behind them.  Yoruichi glanced toward the fish vendor, only to see that a woman had come forward, shaking her head at Mashiro's discarded bag of groceries.  "Miss Kuna, some of your eggs have cracked."

 

Mashiro looked down at the mess on the floor, biting her lower lip.  "Oh, shoot," she said, transferring Yoruichi to one arm and leaning down to pick up the bag with her free one.  "Kensei's going to be maaaaaad..."

 

"Better head back home before your goods spoil, then," the woman said.

 

"Uh-huh," Mashiro said, nodding and grimacing at the eggy mess coating her hand.  "See you next week, Mr. Miyazawa, Mrs. Miyazawa!" she said, starting to make her way out of the square.

 

"Didn't I tell you to stop associating with that girl?" Mrs. Miyazawa hissed at her husband as Mashiro walked away.

 

"Oh come on, she's harmless.  Maybe a little touched, but—"

 

"Hello and Goodbye.  That should be the extent of your conversations!  Honestly, green hair, thinking cats are her friends… _Touched_ , indeed!"

 

Yoruichi watched as the couple continued to argue, but Mashiro didn't seem the least bit phased.  Already having forgotten all about the eggs, she was chatting animatedly at Yoruichi, telling her about Kensei's new set of knives, and Hacchi's boring brown hair, and did she know Rose could now play the samisen, and—

 

"Uhhh, Mashiro?" Yoruichi said, relishing the gravelly voice of this form; it had been too long since she'd used it for anything other than purely utilitarian purposes.  "You can put me down now."

 

"Oh, that's okay!" Mashiro said cheerfully, tightening her grip around Yoruichi's middle.  "I can carry you the rest of the way.  You _are_ visiting, right?"

 

"That's the idea," Yoruichi said, wincing.  "Is that all right?"

 

"Not if you don't like cod sashimi," Mashiro said.  "Kensei might not be too happy, then.  But you can just pretend.  Our place is just down the end of the alley."  

 

Much like her own home, Yoruichi saw that her Visored friends had chosen an abandoned-looking building to stay in.  The exterior, a run-of-the-mill Edo Period house, had been kept intact, but once Mashiro walked through the barrier to the interior, Yoruichi was pleased to see it held all the comforts of a regular house.  After so many days on the road, she would definitely welcome spending the night indoors and having a meal that hadn't been walking or flying just minutes before ending up in her belly.  

 

A key difference between her Karakura home and this, however, was that it had been modified to resemble a dormitory, rather than a regular home.  The whole interior was one large, communal area with scant furnishing, most of it mismatched like theirs was in the shop, but the room held the same lively atmosphere of the dorms back at the Academy.  Even the kitchen was only separated from the living area by a waist-length wall alone.  There was a stairway leading to the second floor, where their individual bedrooms presumably were. 

 

Around the large table in the middle of the living room sat Shinji, Lisa, Hiyori and Hacchi, absorbed in a game of cards.  Rose was seated right next to Shinji, observing the game while tinkering around with an odd, stringed instrument which Yoruichi assumed must be the so-called samisen.  In the far end of the room, Love was perched on the windowsill, enjoying the sun slipping in through the window as he casually flipped through a book.  Kensei was absent from the gathering, but judging by the smells coming from the direction of the kitchen, he was otherwise occupied.

 

"Look who I fouuuuund!" Mashiro said in a sing-song voice as she let Yoruichi drop to the floor.

 

"IT HAD _BETTER_ NOT BE THAT MONGREL THAT GOT INTO MY PANTRY LAST WEEK!" came a yell from the kitchen.  "OR I'M COOKING _YOU_ , MASHIRO!"

 

"Oh, no worries," Yoruichi said.  " _My_ pedigree is stellar."

 

Shinji glanced up from his cards, both eyebrows arched.  "Is that…?" He got up on his knees to take a better look.  "Yoruichi?"

 

His words had a ripple-like effect across the room.  One by one, the rest of his companions turned toward the front door, wearing near-identical expressions of surprise and delight.  Yoruichi could count the times she'd been so warmly received from a group in the palm of a single hand, and theirs was a joy she could completely understand and relate to: they were all relatively new to this odd, confusing world, and though their decision to part ways had been the right one at the time, any reminder of home, no matter how small, was cause for celebration.

 

"You alone?" Shinji asked, once the initial hubbub of greetings and questions had died down.  "Where's Kisuke and Tessai?"

 

"It's just me," Yoruichi said, nodding.  "They're still back in Karakura."

 

"You're staying, right?" Shinji said.  "There's lots of room upstairs if you wanna rest a bit, but Kensei's just finishing up lunch, so you might wanna stick around."

 

"Yeah, stay," Kensei said, reaching for the bag of groceries in Mashiro's arms.  "I'm making— The hell did you do to my eggs?" he said, looking up to Mashiro with a grimace after a quick glance at the grocery bag.

 

"They came pre-cracked," Mashiro said, beaming.  "Isn't that cool?"

 

"Wha…?"

 

"So _anyway_ ," Shinji went on.  "Do you maybe wanna… switch?  Hacchi's barrier is top-notch and I'm sure the girls… well, Lisa or Mashiro, can lend you some clothes."

 

Behind him, Yoruichi could see Hiyori starting to take her sandal off.

 

"Are you trying to get another peek at me, Hirako?" Yoruichi asked, chuckling.

 

" _Another_?" Love asked, arching an eyebrow.

 

Yoruichi wasn't certain Shinji would even remember the incident –Oh, all right that was a lie, she knew he'd never forget- but she hadn't really been fishing for a strong reaction.  All she'd wanted was to give him a good-natured tease, but the sudden pallor in Shinji's face and the terror in his eyes made this too good an opportunity to pass up.

 

"I didn't—!" he spluttered.  "I never—!"

 

"He's seen you naked?" Lisa asked, looking impressed.

 

"He has," Yoruichi said in confirmation, nodding.

 

Hiyori froze in position, one sandal held aloft.  "WHAT."

 

Lisa nodded appreciatively, holding her palm up in front of Shinji.  "Up top."

 

"She waltzed down the stairs with hardly a stich on!" Shinji protested, refusing to high-five her.  His face was now the color of beets, whether from anger or embarrassment, it was hard to tell.  "It wasn't my fault!"

 

"You were in _my_ house," Yoruichi said.

 

"You _snuck_ into a lady's home?" Rose said.  "Oh, _Shinji…_ "

 

"THERE WAS NO SNEAKING!  I WAS VISITING KISUKE—"

 

"You spied on another man's girlfriend while he was in the house?" Kensei piled on.

 

"Was he also naked?" Mashiro asked.

 

"OKAY, THERE IS A _LOT_ OF MISINFORMATION SPREADIN' RIGHT NOW AND I—"

 

Looking torn between amusement and sympathy for Shinji, Hacchi decided to weigh in.  "I think we'd be hearing an entirely different story if they were both naked."

 

"Yeah, a far more interesting one," Lisa said, looking disappointed at the turn the conversation had taken.

 

"Is the interest directly related to the nakedness?" Mashiro asked.  " 'Cause then maybe if Shinji was naked, too—"

 

"I WAS NOT!  LOOK, IT WAS AN ACCIDENT AND KISUKE GOES ALL 'OH YEAH, SHE DOES THAT' LIKE ALL NON-CHALANT AND SHIT—"

 

"Shinji, you meanie, don't ruin Lisa's fantasy!" Mashiro said.

 

Having had enough, Shinji turned to Yoruichi, looking incensed.  "FEEL FREE TO JUMP IN WITH EXPLANATIONS ANY MOMENT NOW."

 

Yoruichi suppressed a chuckle, trying her utmost to look dignified.  "I think I'll take that kimono if that's okay, girls.  I'll probably need some privacy, though," she said, giving Shinji a very pointed look.  "Tsk, tsk."

 

"YOU AND YOUR BOYFRIEND ARE SICK, TWISTED INDIVIDUALS!" Shinji yelled, as Lisa was leading Yoruichi up the stairs.

 

It took a lot of coaxing and apologizing to improve Shinji's mood during lunch, but eventually he let it go, once his companions were done getting their digs in.  Conversation mostly revolved around their news, and Yoruichi was glad to find out that despite some initial difficulties, they were fairing quite well.  It had taken them some time to find a place where they felt comfortable enough to spend a prolonged amount of time in, but eventually they'd reached Osaka, their current home for the past year. 

 

Every now and then, one of them would ask about Tessai or Kisuke, and Yoruichi tried to answer as laconically as possible.  She couldn't quite put her finger as to why the subject made her uncomfortable.  She had every intention to return to Karakura soon enough.  As soon as… well… that remained to be seen.  All she knew for the moment was that she didn't feel ready to go back home yet.

 

After a very filling meal and a few rounds of sake, Yoruichi could no longer overlook her own fatigue and asked if she could retire for a few hours.

 

"You can sleep in our room," Hiyori piped in, a little too eagerly.  "Come on, I'll show you upstairs," she said, slipping out of her chair.

 

Her behavior was raising red flags all over in Yoruichi's head, but before she could even thank her and insist she would get to the room herself, Hiyori was already heading toward the stairs.  Yoruichi had no choice but to follow, taking each step warily as she tried to figure out what exactly it was Hiyori was after.

 

The younger girl led her into the room where she had changed just a couple of hours ago.  Lisa, Mashiro and Hiyori all shared the space, as Lisa had informed her.  It was a small, but neatly-kept bedroom with a large wardrobe and a small tea table in the middle.  Three futons were rolled up right beneath the window, which overlooked Sennichimae square.

 

Hiyori marched forward, kicking one of the futons out into a roll.  "This one's mine," she told Yoruichi.  "Have at it."

 

Having expected something unpleasant to happen as soon as they entered the room, Yoruichi was very relieved to see that it had been her imagination after all.  "Thanks, Hiyori," she said, kneeling down on the futon.

 

Hiyori watched as Yoruichi made herself comfortable, arms crossed in front of her chest.  By the time Yoruichi had fluffed her pillow into a comfortable position, she realized that what she had been expecting to happen was about to.   

 

"Did you abandon Kisuke?" Hiyori asked, scowling.

 

"What?  _No,_ of course not!" Yoruichi said, sitting up on the futon.   _Of course I didn't… I…_ _God, I… I **hope** not._  

 

Hiyori let out a huff and plopped down onto the futon across Yoruichi.  "Don't think I didn't notice you avoided talkin' about him when Shinji asked.  Did somethin' happen to him?"

 

"He's fine," Yoruichi said, now feeling a little defensive.  Though she understood Hiyori was only concerned – _In her own… **unique** way-_ she had no business asking such personal questions in the first place.  "We're just… He's doing his own thing and I'm doing mine."

 

Hiyori didn't seem satisfied with that answer either.  Narrowing her eyes at Yoruichi, she went on. "Don't get me wrong, I still can't believe that loser managed to snag a hottie like you in the first place.  Still… you were stupid enough to go along with it for years, so I was just wonderin' what changed."

 

"I'm only traveling, Hiyori," Yoruichi said, and that was as honest as she was willing to get.

 

"Mmmm," Hiyori said, still looking displeased.  "How is he, then?"

 

"Well," Yoruichi said.  "Better than he was when you saw him last."

 

"Does he still do that thing where he mutters to himself and bangs his head against the desk when he's stuck?"

 

Yoruichi laughed, trying to remember when she had last seen Kisuke do just that.  "Yeah."

 

"Heh.  No wonder you left," Hiyori said, looking down at her knees and falling silent.  Yoruichi was wondering if there would be more uncomfortable questions incoming, but the girl seemed to be working herself up to ask something entirely different.  "So… what, was he too _busy_ to come with you?" she asked, and this time, she didn't sound accusatory, but a little bitter instead.

 

Yoruichi suspected that if Hacchi were as daring and unapologetically honest as Hiyori, they would be having a similar conversation right now concerning Tessai.  "He's… trying something," Yoruichi said.  "If it works, it should make things better.  For all of us."

 

Hiyori arched an eyebrow at that, looking a little alarmed.  "Do I even want to know?"

 

"Probably not," Yoruichi said, chuckling.  "You know you're always welcome to visit yourselves, right?"

 

"Ehhh… maybe," Hiyori said, shrugging.  "At some point.  For now, we're just travelin'.  Like you."

 

"It's a nice country, isn't it?" Yoruichi said, looking outside the window at the sunlit city.  "Not sure I like all the machinery I keep seeing out in the streets, though."

 

"Heh, no kiddin'.  I don't understand half of what the humans are doin' out there these days," Hiyori said.  "Empire, my ass.  I saw a map of the rest of the human world the other day.  Did you know how fuckin' _huge_ Russia is?  It's unreal!"

 

Yoruichi grinned at the incredulous look on the younger girl's face, nodding.  "Yeah, I had an inkling."

 

"They're sayin' there's some trouble brewin' all the way to the other side of the world.  Idiots are gonna get themselves killed.  Hope it doesn't get here.  Probably move to Russia then; they seem to know what the hell they're doin' if they own half the damn place."

 

"Mmm, I think I'd like to see Russia, too…" Yoruichi said, leaning back against the wall and feeling her eyelids start to droop down.

 

Hiyori excused herself shortly after, apparently deciding to not make any further inquiries to what exactly was going on back in Karakura, or with her.  As Yoruichi lay down on the futon, by now already half-asleep, Hiyori's accusation kept replaying in her head.   

_"Did you abandon Kisuke?"_

 

Unbidden, an image of his face came in mind, his smile as real and brilliant as though he were sitting right across her, just out of reach.  She thought of his voice, his touch, his smell, and asked herself if it was maybe time to admit she didn't know what she was doing anymore.

 

* * *

 

**NOVEMBER 7 TH, 130 B.H.I., BENEATH THE SOUKYOKU HILL, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

Yoruichi watched as the maple tree above her swelled with movement and sound at the coming of a breeze.  The wind dislodged a few errant leaves, carrying them away higher, and higher, until they were nothing but red, star-shaped specks in the horizon.  Though maples were ubiquitous in Soul Society, none truly held a candle to the four magnificent trees of her home.  Still, the appeal of this particular one was all about the location. Yoruichi let out a sigh, stretching lazily on the soft futon she had spread on the grass beneath the maple, and let her eyes slip shut, enjoying the calming sound of the nearby stream. 

 

It was a relatively warm November day, cool enough to make for a far more pleasant experience than an outing during the sweltering summer heat, and not so cold that she'd need to wear anything heavier than her crimson fall kimono.  If she wasn't afraid she wouldn't wake up in time to return home before her absence was noticed, she would've been content to fall asleep right then and there, lulled by the rustling of the leaves and the footsteps—

 

_Footsteps?_

 

With a frown, Yoruichi cracked one eye open, holding perfectly still as she tried to gauge whether she should be worried or not.  There was someone approaching all right, but the pulse of the spiritual pressure was weak, making it harder to identify and yet…

 

Grinning, Yoruichi let out a soft sigh of relief.  "Hello, Kisuke."

 

The moment she said the words, Yoruichi heard a muffled curse a few feet behind her.  When she looked over her shoulder, she saw Kisuke approaching, looking peeved. 

 

"I'm sure you'll get there _any_ day now," she said, smirking at his latest failed attempt to sneak up on her.  He was getting better at masking his spiritual pressure, truth be told.  They both were, but they still weren't skilled enough to catch the other by surprise.  Yoruichi's own attempts to ambush him tended to fare a little better purely due to speed.

 

Hands in his pockets, Kisuke ambled forward, coming to a stop just a couple of feet away from her, taking in the scene.  "Enjoying some alone time?" he asked, his eyes falling on the book and the small bottle laid out on the futon by her side.

 

"Just watching the leaves," Yoruichi said.

 

"Aren't you a day early for this?"

 

He was right, of course; the official Maple Festival was tomorrow, and for the Shihouin Estate, its importance was second only to the Founding Day celebration.  "I know, I just… Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the whole extravaganza," Yoruichi said.  "But everyone gets so caught up with dancing and reading poems and whatnot, and I mostly just like to watch the leaves fall.  It's the whole point of the festival, really, isn't it?"

 

Kisuke nodded, glancing up at the maple tree.  "I'll let you enjoy your leaf watching then," he said, smiling at her and turning to leave.

 

"You're going?" Yoruichi asked.

 

"Well… yeah, you clearly wanted to be alone.  I was heading to the Training Grounds," he said, pointing toward the cliff behind them.  "And felt your spiritual signature, so I just came in to check if everything was okay."

 

Yoruichi rolled onto her stomach, giving him an exasperated look.  "Good lord, you look like a wounded deer," she said.  "The only reason I didn't invite you was because I thought you'd be at the Vault all day."

 

Scuffing the ground with one foot, Kisuke looked hesitant.  "Are you sure?  Honestly, I won't take it personally or anything—"

 

 _Maybe try saying that without giving me soulful puppy-eyes,_ Yoruichi thought, trying very hard not to roll her eyes at him.  "Stop being needy, Kisuke," she said.  "Come sit your ass down and watch the leaves with me."

 

Kisuke gave her a soft smile, hands still in his pockets.  "All right," he said, his grin slowly turning crooked.  "Be right back, then."   

 

"Where are you going?"

 

Kisuke turned around, holding up one index finger.  "Give me fifteen minutes," he said.

 

"But what f—?"

 

"You'll see," he said, then with a flash, he was off. 

 

Yoruichi scowled at the spot where he'd been but a second ago, ruing the day she had ever decided to tutor him.  Not that she wasn't proud of the fruits of her labour, but he was an annoyingly fast learner.  He wasn't _quite_ at the point where he could outrun her, but he was getting close; this could only make his infuriating tendency to keep his plans to himself and disappear after dropping a hint even worse.

 

 

With a huff, Yoruichi sat up, running a hand through her loose hair.  It was no use watching the leaves until Kisuke returned, she would only be too caught up in trying to guess what he was up to.  To kill the time until he was back, she picked up her book and started leafing through, trying to distract herself.

 

True to his word, Kisuke returned about ten minutes later.  Yoruichi shut the book as soon as she heard him, setting it aside and turning around to look at him.  She could see he was holding a small, rectangular package in his hands, but she couldn't tell what it was until he came and took a seat across her on the futon.  Without a word, he popped the lid off the slim box and held it before her.

 

Yoruichi looked down at its contents, then back at him.  "You bought maple leaf shaped manju," she said, an amused grin tugging at her lips.

 

"Not really a Maple Festival without them," he said.

 

Yoruichi met his eye again, shaking her head before reaching into the box to pick up one of the small, sweet cakes.  "No sake?" she asked.

 

"Oh, uhh… I didn't know you wanted some," Kisuke said, setting the box down on the futon.

 

"It's okay.  I brought my own," Yoruichi said, motioning toward the small bottle with her head.

 

Kisuke arched an eyebrow at her, then glanced down at the bottle.  She knew what he was thinking: they'd only snuck a taste once or twice during a feast in the castle, but they'd never tried finishing a whole bottle by themselves.  "You know, there's a whole play detailing why this is a very, _very_ bad idea," Kisuke said.

 

"Oh?" Yoruichi said, chuckling.  "You fancy yourself to be Koremochi, then?  The noble, legendary hunter?" she asked, lying back down on the futon.

 

"Well," Kisuke said, copying her and lying onto his back, one arm under his head.  "There's the setting," he said, pointing at the tree. "Yours truly," He pointed at himself. "Add the sake and we've got ourselves a tragedy."

 

"What about Sarashina?"

 

"I let you dress me up in a furisode _once_.  I'm not playing the Princess again."

 

Yoruichi started laughing at the memory of little Kisuke clad in her mother's finery, of Mrs. Fujiwara walking in on them, marveling at how time had passed.  Had it really happened more than a century ago?

 

"It's bad casting, is all I'm saying," Kisuke went on.  "I know I'm pretty, but I'm not Princess Sarashina pretty."

 

 _Fair enough._   After all, Princess Sarashina was always described in the play as an otherworldly creature, ethereally beautiful.  Yoruichi couldn't really tell what compelled her to ask her next question, nor did she know what kind of answer she was expecting.  "Does that make me good casting, then?"

 

Kisuke's chest froze mid-breath, and he seemed to be considering his next move very, very carefully.  After a brief pause, he dipped his hand into the box and stuffed a manju into his mouth.  "Well… You _are_ a great dancer," he said mid-chew.

 

Yoruichi already semi-regretted asking the question, though she found herself feeling oddly pleased at the reaction she had elicited.  "And a demon in secret?" she asked trying to lighten the tension of the moment.

 

Kisuke paused again, though this time he didn't appear to be in as much discomfort as he had been just a moment ago.  "There is no version of this conversation in which I come out looking good, is there?" he said, turning to look at her.

 

Yoruichi chuckled and shook her head.

 

"Hey, a book!" Kisuke said, lifting himself up to rest his weight on one elbow.  It was a very transparent non-sequitur, but she decided to go along with it.  "What were you reading before I got here?"

 

Yoruichi picked up the book and set it down on the futon between them.  "My father had someone bring it back from Japan," she said.  "It's a historical book about Europe.  I think it's a subtle hint that he'd rather I stop reading _fanciful novels_ , to quote him."

 

"Not enjoying it, then?" Kisuke asked.

 

"I wasn't at first," Yoruichi admitted.  "All these wars and not even a proper battle scene."

 

"Well what did you expect?" Kisuke said, chuckling.  "A blow-by-blow description?"

 

"Like I said, I wasn't enjoying it," Yoruichi said, leafing through the book quickly to reach one of the more salient pages.  "At first," she finished, pushing the open book toward him.  "First line, third paragraph, right below the picture."

 

Kisuke picked up the book and started reading.  Within seconds, his eyebrows arched up, disappearing beneath a fringe of blonde hair.  "Ummm…"

 

"Keep reading."

 

About ten seconds later, Kisuke let the book drop, looking half-disgusted, half-amused.  "Gaaaah, what the _hell?_ " he exclaimed.  "Who _does_ that?"

 

Yoruichi let out a snort of laughter.  "Europeans, apparently."

 

"This is… pure gore," Kisuke said, picking up the book again.  "What kind of historian wrote this?"

 

"I don't know," Yoruichi said, grinning.  "Either my dad knows me better than I thought he did, or this was just an awesome coincidence."

 

Kisuke shuddered, folding his arms against the futon and glancing down at the page again.  "So is this the Queen in question?" he asked.

 

Yoruichi looked down at the picture of the young, red-haired woman dressed in what she assumed was full regalia; the clothing was very odd by Soul Society standards, the bodice high-collared and tight, the hair held back by a beaded mesh.  "That's her," Yoruichi said.   

 

Kisuke narrowed his eyes at the picture, then rolled to his side, holding the book up next to Yoruichi's face.  "Hmmm…"

 

"What are you doing?" she asked, frowning.

 

"I think your father is trying to send you a message," Kisuke said.  "Formidable queens who left behind them a trail of blood?  This book might as well be called _Role Models for my Adolescent Daughter._ "

 

Yoruichi rolled her eyes at him.  "Oh, stop it," she said, reaching for the book.

 

"As the Princess commands," Kisuke said, bowing his head at her.

 

Yoruichi snatched the book back and smacked him on the head with it for good measure.  "And cut it out with that Princess crap; there's no-one else around."

 

"All right, all right," Kisuke said, rubbing his head.

 

"It's a stupid title, anyway.  We're not the Royal Family."

 

"How about Pirate Princess?"

 

"Pirate Princess," Yoruichi repeated, staring at him wearily.

 

"I seem to recall a certain _Pirate Lord Yoruichi_ threatening my manhood a few decades ago," Kisuke said, cheek resting against his balled fist.  "Not too big of a stretch from that Queen of yours."

 

Yoruichi shook her head at him, but grinned all the same.  That particular childhood incident seemed to come up a lot today.

 

"Think about it," Kisuke went on.  "Pirate Princess implies all of the prestige, none of the stuffiness.  You get to sail the seas and still make heads roll."

 

"I'll make _your_ head roll if you don't shut up about it."

 

Kisuke dropped the subject and rolled onto his back, crossing his arms behind his head.  For a while he remained silent, just watching the leaves, until his eyes suddenly shone with mischief.  "Ohh, idea," he said.  "Let's open up the sake and take a shot every time there's a decapitation in the book."

 

Yoruichi arched an eyebrow at the suggestion, staring from the bottle to the book and back again.  "And four for every complete dismemberment?"

 

"Naturally."

 

Ten pages in, Yoruichi could no longer remember the rules of the game.  When she asked Kisuke, he insisted that they'd agreed to take a shot every time the kanji for 'sun' showed up.  By the next page, the bottle was empty.

 

Yoruichi now lay on her back, one hand sloppily going through pages of the book.  "No more suns," she said, voice slurring.  "So more sake, either."

 

Next to her, Kisuke groaned, one arm draped over his eyes. 

 

The words on the book were starting to make little sense to her, kanji swimming around before her eyes, so Yoruichi tossed the book and rolled onto her side.  "Kis'keeeee…" she said, poking his arm with her index finger.

 

"Mmmm?"

 

"Go get s'more."

 

"Nope."

 

"Pleaaaase?"

 

"Nope."

 

"You got the shaple maped… maple… You went to get the manju," Yoruichi reminded him.

 

"Well yah, n' now we gotta watch 'em fall," Kisuke said, pointing at the general direction of the tree.

 

Yoruichi let out a snort.  "That dun even make any sense."

 

"Does in my head," Kisuke said, stretching on the futon and letting out a soft, lazy moan.

Yoruichi watched him through half-open eyes, her gaze travelling down along his body.  The futon was a little old, but she had yet to outgrow it, her entire height fitting within its confines easily.   To her surprise, she saw that it was, however, small for Kisuke, even without him stretching.

Kisuke turned just in time to find her watching him.  "What is it?" he asked, his voice thick with lethargy.

 

Unabashed at having been caught staring, Yoruichi kept her eyes on him, tilting her head slightly to the side.  "Yer tall."

 

Kisuke arched both eyebrows at the sound of that.  "I am?"

 

"Well… tall _er_.  When did _tha'_ happ'n?"

 

Clearly at a loss as to how to answer the question, Kisuke simply shrugged.

 

Her head now barely cleared his shoulder.  Having known him since childhood, when they'd more or less been of the same height, the sudden change made him a little more alien in her eyes.  Intellectually, she understood both that the growth spurt hadn't happened overnight, and that such a natural progression was an odd thing to focus upon.  She didn't know whether it was the influence of alcohol or not, but she was struggling to put into words why exactly she was so thrown by the sudden realization.  

 

"Taller n' me now," she said.  "S' weird."

 

"Why?"

 

Yoruichi returned the shrug.  "Jus' is," she said, not willing to try and elaborate when she couldn't explain the fascination to her own self in the first place.

 

It wasn't just the height, either.  Just the other day, while they had been cleaning up by the stream after a training session, she remembered fixating on his forearms as he washed the dirt off his skin.  Though she was willing to bet he'd never be a muscular man, there was a visible difference now to the skinny, gangling child he'd once been.  He was gaining some definition, his shoulders broadening, his limbs filling up with lean muscle.  As she'd watched his long and sinewy arms that day, she had suddenly been struck by how very elegant they were, how sure in their movements.  The slim wrists, the long, ever-so-slightly calloused fingers.  They both led a soft life, but she often forgot that he worked with his hands on a nearly daily basis, performing delicate tasks down at the Vault or on his own projects, the kind of work that built up dexterity and precision. 

 

That observation, simple though it was, had been the cause of a very odd, tightening sensation shooting down through her lower abdomen.  It was the exact same sensation that was coursing through her body at this moment, as her gaze traveled from his cheeks, no longer smooth, down his neck, to the sliver of bare flesh between the lapels of his kimono.  Her eyes swept across his jutting collarbone to the small, hollow curve at the base of his neck.  There they stayed, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. 

 

Even his voice had changed, going through a particularly jarring period of alternating falsetto and bass, until settling to its current lower register. 

 

_When did we stop being kids?_

 

Clearly uncomfortable after the long silence and her penetrating gaze, Kisuke met Yoruichi's eyes, looking as though he was trying to figure out what she was thinking.  "Yoruichi?"

 

"It was grey, with pink blossoms," Yoruichi said, wrapping her arms around her middle.  "I thought it would match yer eyes."

 

"I— What?"

 

It hadn't been that long, had it?  Was a hundred years too long ago for a soul?  Was it long enough a childhood?

 

"The furisode," Yoruichi said.  "An' I was goin' to save you, an' we were going to the sea after.  Remember?"

 

"I remember," Kisuke said.  He let one of his arms drop to the side between them, fingers curling as though he meant to reach for her, but he never did.

 

"I wanna go to th' sea," Yoruichi said.  "I wanna touch the water, swim in it, smell it.  I wanna know what it means."

 

"What _it_ means?"

 

"There's this word… S'pposed to describe the smell of the sea.  Brack-ish," she said, breaking up the word in two syllables, relishing the feel of it in her mouth.  "Can't find a definition.  We dun have one in our language."

 

Kisuke stared at her, his eyelids slowly growing heavy.

 

"I want to know," Yoruichi said with a sigh.

 

"You will," he told her.  "One day."

 

Yoruichi locked her gaze with Kisuke's, hoping he would turn out to be right like he always did.  "Really did match your eyes," she said, just before she lost the battle against sleep.  As her head sank down, she could pretend, just for that split moment between wakefulness and slumber, that the sound of the stream nearby was instead the roaring of the sea.    

 

* * *

****

**MAY 24 TH, 1909 A.D., OUTSIDE KOBE, OSAKA BAY, JAPAN **

 

Yoruichi craned her neck up to check that the coast was clear one more time.  Intellectually, she knew that there wasn't a single soul out on the beach save from her; she had spent the past two days watching the fishermen like a hawk, memorizing their routine and trying to talk herself into taking the plunge.  Quite literally at that. 

 

It was a little past eleven in the morning, and it had been nearly an hour ago that the last few boats had docked for the day, the men scheduled to return late in the afternoon.  She was well and truly alone.  She knew it.  And yet she still stood about a foot away from the shore, watching the deep blue go on and on and on until it became one with the sky, no land in sight of the horizon.

 

It had been only a few days ago that she had found herself wondering why she had been avoiding the coastline, and right now, as she stood across the very thing she'd been dreaming about ever since she was a child, she had her answer.

 

_What if it's not everything I thought it would be?_

 

Had it been all for nothing, then?  The long journey across Japan, the separation, the agony over whether she would ever return to Karakura?  The past eight years of idleness, of fear, had turned her into a coward, it seemed, unwilling to take a step forward and find out, when in the past she would have without a second's hesitation.  

 

Scowling, she planted her paws firmly into the sand.  _Don't be afraid._

 

She closed her eyes and, within seconds, the paws were replaced by feet, the small body grew long and lithe, the black mane of hair tumbling down her shoulders, its ends tickling the small of her back.  With her eyes still shut, she finally took it in, that deep, calming breath she had been subconsciously denying herself for days.

 

Her eyes shot open.  It was a clean scent, pure and natural, of salt and iodine.  _Brackish._

 

Yoruichi looked down, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, spreading her toes against the sand; it was a ticklish, not entirely unpleasant sensation.  Looking up again, she smiled at the horizon and broke into a run, diving straight into the sea.

 

She didn't know whether it was a knee-jerk reaction to how cold the water was, or just plain stupidity, but she inhaled once, and instantly regretted it.  She stomped her feet at the sand, breaking the surface of the water with a gasp and going straight into a coughing fit.  Her throat and sinuses were burning, eyes streaming with tears, her long hair sticking over her cheeks and shoulders as though glued to them.

 

But as the coughs subsided, they were instantly replaced with laughter.  Struggling to breathe, Yoruichi ignored her shivering body and dipped back into the water once, this time re-emerging a little more gracefully, her hair slicked back.  She was freezing, sinuses still stinging, but she couldn't remember the last time she had felt more alive.

 

Falling back-first onto the water, she let it carry her up onto the surface, were she floated, watching the seagulls flying above.  It was in that moment that her heart found itself at peace, as she realized that she missed her home, Karakura, how she couldn't wait to share the details of her trip with Kisuke and Tessai, how she couldn't wait to plan her next trip at some point in the distant future, and the next one, and the next one.

 

And it was there, at the sea, that Yoruichi finally remembered the difference between running away and running toward something.    

 

 

* * *

 

 

**JANUARY 1 ST, 130 B.H.I., SHIHOUIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

Yoruichi gently waved her fan before her face in boredom, mentally blocking out the droning of Lady Ueno and her mother.  Barely an hour past midnight, and the celebration was already starting to abandon the realm of propriety.  It was the one night of the year when even her parents allowed themselves to let their hair down, so to speak, and they always turned a blind eye to the various antics their intoxicated staff might get up to, within sensible limits.

 

Across the room, Yoruichi could see Sakumo was already past the point of no return, swaying on the spot as he engaged in what looked like a very entertaining conversation with councilman Akiyama.  Yoruichi couldn't think of any other night when such an event might ever occur, watching as the councilman, normally a very stiff, buttoned up sort of a man, tittered like a schoolgirl at something Sakumo had just said.  Probably a dirty limerick.

 

"But I was disappointed we didn't get a dance from you this year, Princess Yoruichi," Lady Ueno said, calling Yoruichi's attention back to the conversation.  "It is always such a treat whenever you open the ceremony!"

 

"You are too kind, Lady Ueno," Yoruichi said, lowering her fan and giving the woman a smile.  "But perhaps its value lies in its rarity.  I would hate to perform for our honored guests unless I had something novel to present."

 

"Oh, a _true_ Shihouin, that one!" Lady Ueno said.  "You must be so proud, Lady Hana."

 

"Very much so," Yoruichi's mother said, bestowing her with one of her rare, genuine smiles.

 

"Perhaps next year then?" Lady Ueno asked.

 

"We shall see," Yoruichi said.  "Provided am I not otherwise engaged."

 

"Yoruichi might be joining the Onmitsukidou this year," her mother said, in response to Lady Ueno's questioning look.

 

 _Or maybe in six years,_ Yoruichi thought, but didn't voice nor show her objection in any shape or form.

 

"Oh, are you now?" Lady Ueno asked.  "I was under the impression that you were still a little young?"

 

"One hundred and seventy," Yoruichi said.  "And fifty four minutes, give or take."

 

"Tonight is your birthday?" Lady Ueno asked, looking stunned.  "On the very anniversary of the founding of your clan?  Oh, what an auspicious day, indeed!  No wonder your esteemed parents always prepare such a marvelous feast on this night!"

 

As far as birthday celebrations went, this was truly a magnificent one, Yoruichi had to admit.  Nevertheless, she was a little more partial to her own private, much quieter tradition.  Precisely fifty five minutes ago, to the second, her eyes had sought him out in the great hall, only to find him already watching her, a soft smile on his lips.  Grey eyes met with hazel and they had raised their glasses to one another, the only two people in a sea of revelers who weren't acknowledging the brilliant fireworks outside, but each other.

 

Another year, another birthday.  

 

Her eyes wandered around the great hall once more, as Lady Ueno and her mother fell into a discussion about the stellar quality of the feast served tonight.  She found Kisuke at the other end of the hall, standing by his mother with his hands folded behind his back while they both chatted with Tessai.  He was clad in very dark purple tonight, nearly black, a fine hunter green haori with pale gold rims draped over his shoulders.  He would have looked quite striking if it weren't for the errant strand of hair sticking out in front of his forehead.  No doubt his mother had yet again tried to slick it back with copious amounts of pomade, but to no avail.

 

Yoruichi didn't know whether she had subconsciously reached out to him, or if he just happened to look her way, but their eyes met across the room once more, and she pointed up toward her forehead with her folded fan, chuckling.

 

Kisuke's eyes rolled upwards, and when he saw what she had been laughing at, he instantly raked a hand through his hair, mussing it down to its regular, endearingly sloppy look.  Lady Urahara must've noticed, as Yoruichi saw her slim hand shoot up to slick the hair back into place, but Kisuke gave her a reproachful –though affectionate- look and pushed her hand away gently, a blush spreading to his cheeks.  Pink-faced but smiling, he caught Yoruichi's eye again, watching her giggle behind her fan. 

 

Clearing her throat, Yoruichi glanced toward her mother once, then back at him, motioning at the exit with her head.  Kisuke looked away, giving an imperceptible nod and pretending to be following the conversation with Tessai once more.  After about a minute or so, he leaned forward and said something to his mother and Tessai, then started heading out toward the exit of the hall. 

 

 _There's my cue._   "Mother, Lady Ueno," Yoruichi said.  "If you'll excuse me.  I feel the need for some fresh air.  I'll be right back in a few minutes."

 

Just as she turned to leave, Yoruichi heard her mother excuse herself to Lady Ueno as well, and then felt a hand grip her by the elbow.  "Where are you going?" her mother asked in a whisper, the look in her eyes telling Yoruichi that she hadn't bought her ruse for a second.

 

"I had a lot of tea tonight, mother." Yoruichi said through her teeth, pretending to look uncomfortable.  "Do you _really_ need the specifics?"

 

"Oh," her mother said, relaxing her grip on her.  "All right then, run along."

 

As she waltzed out of the great hall, Yoruichi felt Tessai's eyes on her.  They exchanged a quick glance, Tessai visibly sighing, but he didn't give her up to Lady Urahara, continuing to converse with her as though nothing was amiss.

 

Yoruichi stepped out of the hall, giving the guards standing outside a brief nod, then broke into a brisk walk down the corridor.  She was tempted to loosen her purple floral kimono a little, make it easier to run, but she would have a hard time setting it back right again on her own.  If her mother noticed her state of disarray upon her return –and she would- there would be no quelling her suspicions this time around.  By the time Yoruichi stepped out into the courtyard, she was panting slightly.

 

Just as she was about to head down toward the shrine, she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder.  Startled, Yoruichi swiveled around, ready to launch into some sort of excuse as to why she was heading out into the grounds, when she came face-to-face with Kisuke.

 

"There are guards patrolling the grounds to the shrine," he told her, then motioned toward the path going around the estate.

 

Yoruichi fell into step with him, the two walking along in silence along the walls of the building, trying to stay hidden within the shadows.  Yoruichi looked over her shoulder once, then came to a stop.  "OK, that's far enough; I don't have a lot of time," she whispered.

 

Kisuke leaned back against the wall, slipping his hands into his pockets.  "What's up?" he asked.

 

Yoruichi turned to him, taking in a deep breath.  "I have decided," she said.

 

"Decided what?"

 

"What I'm doing this year."

 

"Oh?" Kisuke said, looking intrigued.  Though they had avoided talking directly about her future plans, Yoruichi had a feeling he had long ago understood that by her lack of enthusiasm whenever the Academy was mentioned, there was a chance she might never attend.

 

"I'm enrolling.  In the Academy."

 

Even if his face hadn't been illuminated by moonlight, she would have been able to hear the smile in his voice.  "You are?"

 

Yoruichi nodded.  "I want to go.  I want to get out of here, to just… _breathe_ , you know?"

 

"Yeah," he said.

 

"Are you going this year, then?"

 

"That's the plan."

 

"Good," Yoruichi said, grinning at him.  "I'll have company then."

 

Kisuke grinned back, and in those few moments of silence that followed her words, Yoruichi could see the future clearly: though their paths would one day separate when she joined the Onmitsukidou and he the Kidou Corps, she had the next six years to look forward to.  Six years of freedom, with her best friend by her side.  

 

"When are you telling your parents?" Kisuke asked.

 

"I don't suppose I could just sneak out of my room on April 1st and leave a note?" Yoruichi said, crossing her arms before her chest.

 

Kisuke chuckled at that.  "Not unless you want your father's personal guard and the entire corps of the Onmitsukidou to show up at the Academy gates on April 2nd."

 

"Honestly?  I don't know," Yoruichi said, letting out a sigh.  She had been postponing the dreaded discussion for as long as she possibly could, but there were only a scant four months left.  The longer she waited to talk to them, the more she lowered her chances that they would see her decision as one made soberly, instead of an immature, last-ditch effort to get out of the castle.  "Guess the sooner the better, right?  If they refuse, will you—?"

 

"Bring you food and water while you hide down at the training grounds?  Sure," Kisuke said.  "I'll throw in some books, too."

 

Yoruichi laughed, hoping it wouldn't come down to that, but determined to stand her ground all the same.  Kuukaku had been right, in the end: there was a way to honor both her family's legacy and make her own choices, but if she wanted her parents to respect her decision, she couldn't keep hiding any longer.

 

"I'm going to head back now," Yoruichi said.  "I just wanted to let you know."

 

Kisuke nodded, smiling at her.  "Happy birthday, by the way."

 

Yoruichi smiled back.  "Happy birthday," she said, then turned around and dashed back toward the estate.

 

Another year, another birthday.

 

_And a new beginning._

 

 

* * *

 

 

**JUNE 1 ST, 1909 A.D., KARALURA TOWN, JAPAN **

 

"Hmmm… a little to the left," Kisuke called, draining his glass of iced mugicha before bringing it to his neck to cool off.

 

Dripping in sweat, Tessai turned around to glare down at Kisuke, all the way up from the roof of the store.  "You have been saying that for the past two minutes," he said, running the back of his palm over his forehead. 

 

"Well, yes.  Because it needs to go a little to the left."

 

"Why didn't you just say a _lot_ to the left at the start?"

 

"My dear, Tessai," Kisuke said, shielding his eyes from the sun with his palm.  "Given your impressive, er… musculature, I assumed saying a _lot_ to the left might prove to be catastrophic."

 

"I give up," Tessai said, putting both hands up.  "You can get up here and do it yourself.   _Boss_."

 

"Okay, okay, wait!" Kisuke said, getting up from his chair in a hurry.  Squinting at the large board, he tilted his head to the side, index finger tapping at his lips.  "I think two centimeters to the left should do it.  For good."

 

Tessai gave him a warning look, then pushed the sign up toward the left by precisely two centimeters. 

 

 _Dammit, I should've told him two and a half.  Now it's going to bother me._   "Perfect!" Kisuke said with a broad grin, giving Tessai the thumbs up.

 

Letting out a sigh of relief, Tessai slipped into the open second floor window.  About a minute later, he walked out of the front doors and came to stand by Kisuke, admiring his handiwork.

 

"What do you think?" Kisuke asked.

 

Tessai shrugged.  "It's… honest."

 

"That it is," Kisuke said, smiling at the new sign now hanging over their small business. It read _Urahara Shop._   "It's this new thing I'm trying out."

 

Tessai chuckled, crossing his arms in front of his massive chest.  "Well, if—" he began, but cut his own sentence short when something behind them drew his attention.

 

Kisuke turned around to look as well, only to see a mailman approaching.  _Ohh, this should be interesting,_ he thought, watching closely.  The man came to a stop a few feet away from them, looking at their building in confusion.  Across the street, their ever-so-curious neighbor Mrs. Koizumi slipped out of the front door, explaining to the mailman that the 'weird couple' _–Well ouch; that's pretty rude.  Why weird?-_ had left Karakura about a month ago, closing down their business and selling the building, though the new buyer had yet to show up.  The mailman thanked her, then made a move to leave.

 

"Good job on the barrier," Kisuke said, giving Tessai a pat on the back. 

 

As soon as Mrs. Koizumi retreated back into her house, Kisuke snapped his fingers once, approaching the mailman.  The man fell into a daze, just barely standing on his feet, staring at his surroundings blankly, but still holding onto the envelope he'd been about to put back into his bag. Kisuke snagged the envelope away and walked back toward Tessai, snapping his fingers again.

 

"You do realize you don't need to snap your fingers?" Tessai told him, watching as the mailman regained his bearings and returned to his rounds, a perplexed look on his face.

 

"I do, but the snapping gives it some much needed flair," Kisuke said, using the envelope as a cooling fan.

 

"Is that from Hirako?" Tessai asked.  "Did Lady Yoruichi find them?"

 

Kisuke brought the envelope before him, looking at the address.  The letter was from Osaka all right, but the handwriting didn't belong to Hirako.  It did, however, belong to someone else he knew very well.  "No, it's… from Yoruichi herself," he said, stunned.

 

He tore the top of the envelope, fully awaiting a sheet of folded paper to drop once he tilted it toward his open palm, but to his surprise, all that came out was a tiny little scrap.  It hardly fit the definition of a letter, but to the knowing eye, that scrap of paper told a whole story with a beginning, a middle and an end.

 

The number on the bottom and the few, out of context motes of hiragana told him that she had likely ripped the corner off a book to write the note.  There were two types of ink used and a third one on the envelope; she must've been interrupted at least once, but she had persisted, and tried again and again until she could stay true to her promise to write. 

 

The words had clearly been written in a hurry; he could easily recognize the handwriting as Yoruichi's, but it wasn't her usual tidy, flowing script.  Not that it mattered, really.  Not when the content made his chest swell and his lips break into the broadest smile to date.

 

_'I went to the sea yesterday.  I'm not good with words, but by the time I'm home, I hope I will have found the right ones to describe it to you.  Better yet, that one day you'll let me show it to you.'_

 

It was the first and greatest love letter he would ever receive.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a fan of love triangles, or at least of the way they're traditionally handled. Being with someone while you pine for someone else is something I can understand and get behind, but making a (usually female, let's be honest) character agonize over two potential partners just to create unnecessary drama is not my cup of tea. Just putting that out there, what with Kaien and Yoruichi becoming friends. 
> 
> Also, I'm not pleased with myself for focusing so much on arranged marriages, believe me. It's just that I'm writing about nobility, and unfortunately, until those two awesome ladies can start making their lives their own, this is a reality that has to be acknowledged. Thankfully, the next chapter marks the beginning of life outside the walls of the Shihouin castle! I can't even begin to tell you how much I've been looking forward to the Academy years.
> 
> On another note, I can't really wrap my head around souls contracting an actual illness. There are examples in canon (like Hisana) where we see this happen, but as I find the notion that a virus/bacterium could infect a soul ridiculous, I went with something a little different. To the observer, the symptoms and appearance of an ill soul would definitely be similar to those of a sick human, but the way it works is different. The only soul corruption we know of in canon happens with Hollows, and I don't mean Hollowification, I'm talking about how a Plus becomes a Hollow. Clearly the two processes are different, so I figure a middle ground wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility. What I've decided to go with is that contact with Hollows, if not resulting in death, could lead to an 'infection' and if said infected person didn't immediately seek treatment (like poor people in Rukongai, for example, who can afford no such luxuries), it could very well lead to an epidemic.


	6. Follow the Leader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plan for the following chapters is to dedicate one per Academy semester (so six month brackets, give or take). Fair warning from the get-go that it will not take them six years to graduate. I mean, come on, if there are canon examples of early graduates, surely Kisuke and Yoruichi can give them a run for their money? ;)
> 
> There is a real-life book referenced in this chapter, the Manual of the Operations of Surgery. Though it was about a hundred years away from publication at that time, I deliberately included it as a small shout-out to its author, the great Joseph Bell, a surgeon who served as the main inspiration for Sherlock Holmes, fellow genius extraordinaire to one of our heroes.
> 
> As always, detailed notes on this chapter can be found on my tumblr account (see my profile for the URL) if you're interested.
> 
> Cultural notes:
> 
> Zabuton: A sitting pillow with a backrest attached, sort of like a chair without legs.
> 
> Academic year in Japan: The academic year for schools and unis in Japan starts on April. What I've gone with concerning the Academy is: April enrollment; Sumer break in late July; September exams/graduation for seniors; Start of 2nd semester in October; Winter break at the end of December; Classes resume mid-January; March exams/graduation for seniors.
> 
> Sword types: A katana's length varies between 60-73 cm (24-28,5 inches), a wakizashi is between 30-60 cm long (12-24 inches), and a tantou 15-30 cm long (6-12 inches).

**MARCH 24 TH, 130 B.H.I., SHIHOUIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS **

 

Shihouin Ken'ichi watched as his daughter toyed with her food, often bringing a bite to her lips only for her hand to go slack, her eyes hazing over.  He might have admonished her for this newly frequent attitude, if she didn't look so positively glowing every single day as of late.  In little over than a week, she would be leaving their home to officially begin her studies in the Spiritual Arts Academy, and for the past fortnight, she didn't seem to be able to concentrate on anything other than that ever-approaching date: April 1st.

 

Over the years he had observed Yoruichi persevere under the strain of her vastly demanding daily schedule, only to come out stronger for it, more mature, more focused than ever.  As the eldest of four, he was intimately familiar with the immense load that came with carrying their family name, but at the very least, he had had his three brothers to rely upon for support, whereas Yoruichi's fate was to shoulder it all alone.  And he couldn't have been prouder.

 

She would shine brighter than the morning star, his daughter, and as her days of living under his roof were approaching an end, he found himself feeling the need to spend more and more time with her, to cling to every last second until she went out into the world and became the legend she was surely destined to be.

 

Even their daily meals had become an entirely different ritual as of late; though mostly serving a completely utilitarian purpose in the past, the previously idle conversations would now last longer, the strict timetable he had always followed in his life becoming laxer.

 

Today, he had suggested they dine in Yoruichi's apartment, something he was now regretting, somewhat: the sight of most of her belongings packed up and ready to be moved in a few days' time was making him ache for more time with her.  In many ways, he and his daughter were very alike: they had never needed to communicate in prosaic ways to understand each other, and though he knew her well, he now wished he could be present to watch her grow into adulthood.

 

His musings where cut short by a gentle knock on the door.  He gave the visitor permission to enter, and the double doors creaked open, revealing Mizuho, Yoruichi's handmaiden.

 

"My apologies for the intrusion, my Lord and Ladies," she said, bowing deeply.  "There was a package delivery."

 

"Not to worry, Mizuho.  Set it over there, please," Ken'ichi said, pointing toward the kotatsu in the back of the living room.  "Who is it for?" he asked, eyeing the small bundle in Mizuho's arms.

 

"The Princess.  From Master Yukimura's shop."

 

At the sound of the tailor's name, Yoruichi let out a shriek of joy and jumped up to her feet.  "My uniform!" she said, rushing over to Mizuho.

 

"Really now, Yoruichi!" Hana said, pursing her lips.  "We do _not_ leave the table—"

 

"Oh, leave her be," Ken'ichi said, turning to smile to his daughter.  "Go try it on, then."

 

Giving him a dazzling smile in return, Yoruichi clutched the bundle close to her chest and sprinted into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

 

As he had expected, the moment Mizuho excused herself and left the apartment, his wife rounded up on him.

 

"I will _never_ understand why you are encouraging this," she said, glaring daggers at him.

 

"Come now, Hana, it will only be a few extra years," Ken'ichi said dismissively.  "She's a perfectionist; she wants to join the Onmitsukidou when she's ready, and going against her on this is only going to create unnecessary strife."

 

He couldn't deny that coming to accept Yoruichi's decision hadn't been somewhat of a struggle.  Throughout their conversations over the years, Ken'ichi had been under the impression that Yoruichi was bound straight for the Onmitsukidou, but he had been proven wrong one morning in early February, when his daughter had requested an audience with both himself and Hana present.

 

His instinctive reaction the moment she made her intentions clear was to refuse her, but something held him back from speaking.  It was the way she had broached the subject, he would come to realize, her calmness, the conviction in her eyes.  She had presented all her arguments, requested that they take the time to consider them carefully, and had then excused herself from their apartment, leaving behind her stunned silence.  Despite his better judgment, he had been impressed by the level of maturity she had displayed in this one, single exchange.

 

"I did not mean joining the Academy period," Hana said.

 

"What _did_ you mean?"

 

"She's not going alone," she said, giving him a pointed look.

 

"And?" Ken'ichi said, refilling both their glasses with sake.  "If anything, Kisuke will keep an eye on her.  I see no drawback to this."

 

"You cannot be that blind!" Hana hissed, glancing once toward the door of Yoruichi's bedroom, then leaning closer to him over the table.   "That boy…  He's…"

 

"Yes?"

 

Whatever Hana was originally going to say next she decided against, giving him a perplexed look instead.   "You are actually fond of him, aren't you?"

 

Ken'ichi paused, mulling over Hana's suggestion.  It was no secret he was partial to Kisuke's intellect and loyalty, and there was no doubt the afternoons he spent with the boy were never unpleasant and in fact quite mentally stimulating.  Though fondness was perhaps too strong a word, Hana wasn't completely off the mark.

 

"I suppose you could say that," he said.  In all honesty, he could not see what Hana had against the boy, when he had been nothing but beneficial to their family so far.  And if his future unfolded the way Ken'ichi predicted it would, his association with House Shihouin could only serve to further their interests.  "And why wouldn't I be?  He's highly intelligent and dedicated.  Give it a few years and he'll be—"

 

"Your son in law?"

 

Ken'ichi stared at Hana, allowing the full implications of her words to wash over him before bursting out in laughter.  "Is _that_ what this is all about?  Oh, Hana…"

 

"Do _not_ patronize me, Ken'ichi—" she began, her brilliant hazel eyes narrowing dangerously.

 

"I am not," he said, holding both hands up in placatory manner.  "But you have no reason to be alarmed.  It will never happen.  So the boy has a… crush on her, so what?"

 

"Are you telling me you knew?"

 

"Of course I _knew_ ," Ken'ichi said, bringing his glass of sake to his lips.  "I have eyes, don't I?"

 

It was rather insulting, really, for his wife to think he was so oblivious to what was going on in his own home.  After all, he was the one who had actively mentored Kisuke for one hundred and ten years now; he had seen the way the boy looked at his daughter, witnessed the way he spoke of her.  But instead of admonishing him for it, like Hana had no doubt planned, all Ken'ichi had had to do was subtly, but firmly put some distance between them.  The boy had seen the writing on the wall, and that was that.  Confronting him about it openly would only have served to humiliate him, a punishment far too severe for the crime of simply having good taste.   

 

"And this honestly doesn't worry you?" Hana said, now looking at him in disbelief.

 

"It does not."

 

"Why?"

 

"Because he will never dare act on it."

 

Hana scoffed at him, reaching for her own glass of sake.  "You cannot know this."

 

"Oh, yes I can.  I know _him_ ," Ken'ichi said. 

 

Kisuke was a born scientist.  There was a voracity to the way he threw himself into any intellectual pursuit, a trait Ken'ichi could only admire.  He had known it from the moment he'd met the child, seen the hunger in his eyes, the need to learn, to ask, to _consume_ knowledge _._  And above all, his intellect extended far beyond scientific matters: when he had been presented with the opportunity of a lifetime, he had been clever enough to recognize it, and he had grasped it without a moment's hesitation, pushing his juvenile infatuation aside.

 

"He has yet to disappoint me," Ken'ichi told Hana.  "And he never will."

 

Before Hana could start forming an argument, the door to Yoruichi's bedroom opened and out she came, clad in the standard red hakama and white shirt, beaming.  The lines on Hana's face relaxed upon sight of Yoruichi, her expression softening.  His wife glanced at him once, a silent agreement passing between them: this conversation was not over, but it would have to be postponed for now.

 

Getting up from the table, she approached their daughter, eyes taking in the Academy uniform.  "Hmmm… We should have Mai take it in a little, the inseam looks slightly low," she said.  "What do you think?"

 

"I have no idea," Yoruichi said, shrugging.  "I don't really know much about tailoring."

 

"We can have a fitting later, try it out.  Maybe even have the whole uniform redone with better materials?" Hana suggested, rubbing the cloth on the sleeve between thumb and forefinger.

 

Yoruichi pulled her sleeve away, her face resolute.  "Everyone wears the standard uniform," she said.

 

Ken'ichi could read the look in Hana's eyes: _You're not **everyone** ,_ it seemed to say, but she didn't voice the thought, pursing her lips slightly.  "All right.  What about the fitting?" was all she said, tentatively smoothing the shoulders of Yoruichi's shirt.

 

Yoruichi glanced up at her mother, thinly veiled surprise in her eyes.  "Ummm… Sure.  Why not?"

 

Of all the conversations he had ever witnessed between his wife and daughter, this was possibly the first one that didn't end up in a heated argument.  Smiling, Ken'ichi raised his glass to his lips again, wondering just when it was that the universe had gone upside down.

 

Much to his surprise, the subject of Hana's objections to their daughter attending the Academy alongside Kisuke didn't come up again, and he wasn't foolish enough to awaken a sleeping dragon. 

 

On the morning of April 1st, with the carriage holding Yoruichi and Kisuke's respective possessions waiting right outside the White Gate of the complex, Ken'ichi and his wife bid farewell to their daughter.  Ken'ichi was now quickly coming to the realization that this sense of immense bereavement and simultaneous joy would follow him for life, as he would watch Yoruichi ascend to higher planes with each passing year.  He couldn't fault her for looking so ecstatic in contrast, but part of him wished she might have tried to hide it a little better.

 

With his mother and their handmaiden Asuka in tow, Kisuke approached their family, arms folded behind his back.  "My Lord and Lady Shihouin," he said, taking a bow.  "Princess, are you ready to depart?"

 

Yoruichi nodded at Kisuke once, then turned back to him, smiling.

 

"Do your best," Ken'ichi told her, placing his hands on her shoulders.  "Work hard and uphold the integrity of the Shihouin name."

 

"I will, father," Yoruichi said, slipping out of his grasp.

 

Ken'ichi watched as the two youngsters boarded the carriage, wearing near-identical expressions of excitement and anticipation.  The four adults remained by the gate long after the carriage had set off, until Ken'ichi let out a sigh, turning to Lady Urahara.

 

"Well, that was that," he said.  "I hope you are faring better than I am."

 

Lady Urahara let out a soft chuckle, wrapping her haori around her more tightly.  "Oh, I am certain there are many sleepless nights in my immediate future, my Lord," she said.  "But for the time being, I suppose I am dealing with it well enough."

 

Ken'ichi began to lead the small party of our back toward the estate, his conversation with Lady Urahara shifting to work-related matters.  It was an only marginally successful distraction, as his thoughts mostly remained with his only child.  Though he had little doubt she would quickly rise to the top of her class, he couldn't help but worry that her social interactions with her peers might be somewhat strained.  This would be the first time Yoruichi ventured outside the walls of the castle without her retinue, and though her class would mostly comprise of people of her station, there were few even among nobility who could fully relate to her own experience of life so far.  Hopefully, Kisuke's presence would aid in bridging the gap little by little.

 

"At any rate," he told Lady Urahara.  "You need not concern yourself with Sagara Ichirou's hysterics today.  I have extended an invitation to his advisor proposing a meeting next month.  Take the day off and look after yourself, Lady Urahara."

 

The young woman blushed a deep crimson at his suggestion.  "My Lord, I assure you, my health may have been—"

 

"I only meant that this has been an emotionally fraught day for all of us," Ken'ichi hurried to say, unable to help but glance toward the road leading out of the castle, where the carriage was still visible in the distance.  "I myself plan on doing little other than brood over the absence of my daughter and shougi partner today.  And I suggest you do the s—"

 

His words were cut short at the sight of the carriage suddenly coming to a stop.  Even without looking, he could feel the three other pairs of eyes follow his gaze.  Next to him, Hana made a sound as though she was about to speak, probably wonder out loud if something had happened, when a small, dark-haired figure clad in white and red hopped off the carriage.  Seconds later, she was followed by her blond counterpart and, wasting no time, they ran off, disappearing around the corner.

 

Ken'ichi could do little other than gape at the distance, a heavy, pregnant silence spreading in the small group.  His mind was still trying to process what it was he had just seen, when a hand on his arm jostled him out of his reverie.

 

Looking down to his right, he saw Hana wearing a calm, infuriatingly self-satisfied smirk.  "You were so busy shaping _him_ into a loyal subject, you didn't notice _her_ pull a fast one right under your nose," she said.  " _Dear._ "

 

And as Hana flicked her fan open casually, waltzing back into the estate after giving the petrified Lady Urahara a nod, Ken'ichi reached the distressing conclusion that perhaps he didn't truly know his own daughter at all.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**APRIL 1 ST, 130 B.H.I., NORTHWEST QUADRANT OF THE COURT OF PURE SOULS **

 

"Do you think they saw?" Kisuke asked, glancing over his shoulder even though he must have known it was an exercise in futility; they were well out of sight by now.

 

Yoruichi came to a stop to catch her breath, shaking her head.  "No way, they were headed back to the estate," she said, in between pants.  "Neither of my parents are particularly emotional, I assure you.  If anyone did glance back, that would be _your_ mother, and I doubt she'd rat us out."

 

"She wouldn't have looked," Kisuke said, his cheeks growing slightly pink.

 

"Are you kidding me?" Yoruichi said, chuckling at his discomfort as she supported her weight on her knees.  "Asuka was openly bawling and your mom was damn close, too.  I saw her whisper something to you.  What was it?"

 

"I— She— Nothing."

 

" _Come_ oooooooon…"

 

Kisuke looked away from her prying gaze, his neck and ears now visibly redder as well.  "She just asked me to take care of myself," he said.  "And… make sure I eat."

 

Yoruichi laughed, pulling herself up into an upright position.  "See?  Now compare _that_ to _upholding the family name_ and tell me again if you think they would've looked back."

 

"Fine, fine, I'll drop it," Kisuke said, slipping his hands into the pockets of his blue hakama.  "So are we really doing this?"

 

"Did you _want_ to show up to school in a carriage?" Yoruichi asked. Arching an eyebrow.

 

"Hmmm… Probably the kind of thing that gets you stuck with a nickname all year long," Kisuke said.

 

"Exactly," Yoruichi said.  "The driver knows where to go, don't worry.  So… Shall we?"

 

"Let's shall," Kisuke said, smiling at her as they set off toward the Academy on foot.

 

It was far too beautiful a day not to enjoy it talking a walk through the Court.  And Yoruichi was determined to savor every last morsel of her newfound freedom, not willing to take even a single second for granted.

 

Truly, it was the beginning of spring.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**APRIL 12 TH, 130 B.H.I., SPIRITUAL ARTS ACADEMY, COURT OF PURE SOULS **

 

The last thing he remembered was thinking about how very sinfully bored he was.  When his eyes slipped open again, his head was in free-fall, chin less than two centimeters off the desk.  With barely a second to spare, Kisuke swiftly placed his hands up against the desk instinctively, blinking.

 

"…and it was in the aftermath of that bitter conflict that the Spiritual Arts Academy was founded, at the time known as The Genji School."

 

Kisuke let out a groan, rubbing his stinging eyes with the back of his hand.  He didn't know how long he had slept, but it couldn't have been more than a few minutes if Professor Endo was still droning on about the events that had led up to the formation of the Academy.  _Then again, he dedicated a quarter of an hour to analyzing just how the naming of the Court of Pure Souls once became a point of contention due to a misinterpreted ideogram,_ he thought.   

 

It wasn't as though Kisuke had no interest in history, but he had expected the course to be a little more challenging, to offer opportunities for debate instead of following the tired old format of a straight lecture.  Then again, perhaps it was a little naïve of him to believe that his opinion mattered, or would even make the slightest bit of difference in dispelling long-held myths about the origins of their world.  History was written by the victors, after all, and it was those very victors who kept this Academy running in the first place.

 

 _Oh well, another one to cross of the list,_ Kisuke thought, making a mental note to update the final draft of his proposed schedule after class.  He tried to quell his disappointment by telling himself that at the very least, attendance was not mandatory, even if the subject itself was as part of the core curriculum.   

 

"Nice dream?"

 

Kisuke turned to his right where Harada Nobu sat, an amused glint in his pale blue eyes.  His red-haired classmate didn't seem to be particularly interested in the lecture either, but apparently he'd had no trouble staying awake.

 

"Can't remember," Kisuke said, stifling a yawn behind his hand.

 

"You got a little…" Harada trailed off, tapping at the side of his chin.

 

Kisuke swept the side of his chin absently, only to find he had dribbled all over himself.  "Ugh," he said, wiping the wet spot away irritably.  "I bet _that_ looked dignified."

 

Harada chuckled.  "Like I said: must've been a good dream."     

 

If there was one aspect of this class Kisuke was truly going to miss, it would definitely be Harada's hilarious running commentary during lectures. 

 

As expected, Yoruichi's charisma, her sense of humor and easy-going nature had drawn a small crowd of potential friends and admirers from day one, but Kisuke had neither the charm nor the inclination to socialize much.  Meeting Harada had been but a fortunate accident, the result of randomly chosen seating in the lecture hall.  Nevertheless, Kisuke mused, even with _History I_ out of the way, they were bound to have more opportunities to talk in the future as members of the same advanced class.

 

Though class became infinitely more bearable when engaged in conversation with Harada, Kisuke was still grateful when they were dismissed, eager to get some fresh air after three consecutive lectures.  Waving goodbye to Harada, Kisuke made his way out of Lecture Hall B17 and down the corridor through the throng of students, heading for the exit.

 

On the way out, he was once again greeted by the familiar sight of first year students looking more than a little lost, consulting maps and passersby for directions to their next class.  Having familiarized himself with the layout of the Academy early enough, he often found himself the target of such inquiries, the most common of which concerned the locations of the four training halls.  _Nearly two weeks in and they still can't remember they're all outdoors,_ Kisuke thought, shaking his head.

 

In between the sea of red and blue, he spotted the familiar face of Suzuki Yamato, running a hand through his close-cropped black hair, his blue eyes flitting over his schedule anxiously.  Kisuke walked up behind him, glancing over his shoulder down at the piece of paper in Suzuki's hands.  "Up one floor, down corridor E, Lecture Hall C12," Kisuke said.

 

Suzuki nearly jumped out of his skin, swiveling around at once and letting out a groan when he saw Kisuke.  "Jeeeez! You scared the Hell out of me, Urahara!"

 

"Sorry," Kisuke said, grinning.  "Have fun."

 

"Wait, you're not coming?"

 

Kisuke shook his head at Suzuki, already heading down the stairs toward the ground floor.  "Professor Endo's lecture just about did me in.  I don't think I can take another one today," he said.

 

Suzuki chuckled, pocketing his schedule.  "See you at 1, then?"

 

With a nod and a wave, Kisuke trotted down the steps and made his way outside the main building, searching through the crowd for Yoruichi, all his senses on alert; just the other day she had snuck up on him _just_ as he'd sensed her presence, but before he could react, he had felt a sharp flick behind each ear – "Ha!  Six to four, slowpoke!" _–_ and heard her cackle.

 

He needn't have worried about any surprise attacks today, however: when Yoruichi stepped out of the building, she appeared to be in a sour mood, her spiritual pressure spiraling out of her in erratic, sharp bursts.

 

"Hey," she said once she had approached him, looking once over her shoulder.

   

"Hey.  What's wrong?  Did something happen in class?" Kisuke asked, taking in her deep frown and tense shoulders.

 

Yoruichi pursed her lips and toyed with the end of her ponytail tetchily, leaning in a little closer.  "Is that guy still staring at me?" she asked.  "One o' clock, brown hair down to his shoulders, beady hazel eyes."

 

Kisuke ventured a look over the top of her head, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, and surely enough, he saw someone fitting that very description stealing glances at her every now and then.  "Uhhh… yeah," Kisuke said.  "He looks a little familiar," he said, squinting in an effort to recall where he had seen the person's face before.

 

"Okay, so it's not just my imagination!" Yoruichi said, a measure of relief washing over her face.  "He's been hounding me for _days_ , just… _staring_."

 

"Creepy."

 

" _Yes_!  And I can't figure out why!"

 

Before he could hold it back, Kisuke involuntarily let out a scoff at the sound of her words.  "Well…"

 

"What?"

 

Rolling his eyes gently at the perplexed look on her face, Kisuke hesitated, one hand flying up to his nape.  She couldn't possibly be as oblivious as she put upon, could she?  Did she not notice the dozens of heads she turned every time she stepped into a room?  While he did firmly believe that very few –if any- had dared approach her to act upon their infatuation, it could only be because of her name; they had barely been in the Academy for two days before the news that the Shihouin heiress was among the freshman class had spread like wildfire.  "Don't tell me you're surprised people find you attractive?" Kisuke said, finally getting the words out.

 

"I…" Yoruichi began, looking away, crossing her arms before her chest.  "There is no way to answer this without sounding either very naïve or full of myself."

 

"Fair enough," Kisuke said, grinning at her.

 

"But I don't think that's why he's stalking me.  It's…" Yoruichi said, her expression clouding once more.  "I don't know how to explain it, but… I…" She shook her head, shifting her eyes back at him.  "It feels different."

 

"Do you, uhh… want me to…?" he began, motioning vaguely toward the student, but cut himself short before— _Before **what**_? _Before you embarrass yourself?  Too late._

 

Yoruichi let out a snort.  "What, go defend my honor?" she said, looking highly amused.

 

Kisuke shut his eyes, trying very hard not to slap himself across the face and curse his own lizard brain out loud for what it had just made him blurt out.   _Stupid lazy amygdala._ "Just… forget I ever said anything," he said, hearing the humiliation echoing in his voice.

 

Yoruichi looked as though she was sorely tempted to keep on teasing him, but she mercifully dropped it, giving him a grin and a shake of her head.  "Anyway, never mind that creep; if he keeps it up I'll make sure he regrets ever laying eyes on me," she said, her expression suddenly turning eager.  "Are you done?"

 

Slipping his hand into his pocket, Kisuke withdrew a rolled up piece of parchment, holding it up.  "Right here.  History just bit the dust, by the way," he said.

 

"As well it should," Yoruichi said, nodding.  "Let's go have a look, then."

 

"Is the gate open yet?"

 

"It should be," Yoruichi said.  "Fourth years and above have a free period before lunch on Thursdays, remember?"

 

"Right," Kisuke said, nodding.  "How did yours go, by the way?"

 

"So, so," Yoruichi said, as began to head toward the gate.  "Still on the fence."

 

While they made their way past the courtyard, Yoruichi walked him through the finer points of _Combat Tactics I_.  Just as she had anticipated, the gates had been opened once more, allowing the coming and going of students within the Court.  Kisuke had to admit that he hadn't expected regulations to be so tight when it came to outings; perhaps the strictness was rooted in precedent, but leafing through the student rulebook had confirmed his own observations: the gates only opened for free periods and days off.  Any other extenuating circumstances required a permission slip to be issued before said student could enter or leave through the gates, making truancy nigh impossible.

 

_But not entirely._

 

Folding his arms behind his back, Kisuke glanced down at Yoruichi, watching as she read through his proposed schedule.  One of the pleasant surprises of these first two weeks in the Academy was the discovery that a student's individual timetable was entirely customizable to their own wishes.  To that effect, the first two weeks of classes were what as colloquially known as a 'shopping period,' an opportunity for students to audit classes and evaluate them before making their final decision.

 

A recommended timetable for first years had been included within the bundle of paperwork they'd received on orientation day, but both of them had instantly agreed they had no desire to follow it.  Just as Lord Shihouin had informed Kisuke a number of years ago, his skills and knowledge in many subjects were beyond those expected of a first semester pupil in the Academy.

 

They walked in silence, Kisuke watching with some trepidation as Yoruichi's eyes grew rounder the more she read.

 

"Shopping period is almost over," he said.  "We have to settle on our final schedule tomorrow at the latest."

 

"Yes, I _know_ , but _this?_ " Yoruichi said, coming to a stop and holding the parchment up.  "Is _insane_.  I know _you_ can subsist on half a tea spoon of rice and one hour of sleep per day, but I need my sleep, Kisuke.  I _like_ my sleep."

 

Kisuke waved a hand dismissively, having an answer ready for the argument he had been expecting.  "You're looking at this the wrong way; we won't have to attend even half of these classes."

 

"Oh?  And come exam period, how are we supposed to pass?  We learn by osmosis?" Yoruichi quipped, holding the parchment up against her cheek.

 

"You _have_ been paying attention—!"

 

" _Kisuke_ —"

 

"Okay, okay, look," Kisuke said, hurrying to cut her off before the dangerous glint in her eye grew downright sinister.  "Most of the introductory classes are way below our level.  You knew that long before we even stepped foot in this place."

 

"Well yes, but what I didn't know was that I'd have to actually register for _and_ pass all the prerequisite classes before I can tackle the advanced ones," Yoruichi said.

 

"And we will.  There's nothing in the rules about mandatory attendance, at least not for theoretical subjects," Kisuke said, and it was the truth.  With the exception of actual, hands-on training that required their physical presence every day, every other class could be skipped without disciplinary repercussions.  "So we register, we sit the exam in September and that's it."

 

Yoruichi let out a sigh, pushing her bangs out of her eyes.  "Look, it's not that I doubt my abilities, or yours for that matter, but… must we…" she said, now furling and unfurling the schedule in her fingers.  "Must we rush this?"

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"I… I want to do well, I do," she said, glancing up at him earnestly.  "And I certainly wouldn't mind doing better than Akira, it's just… I like it here," she said, her voice losing some of its previous edge, lips turning up as she took in the row of trees lining the side of the road.  "I'd like to… extend the experience.  For as long as possible."

 

"Oh," was all Kisuke could say.  As far as he was concerned, if it were physically possible, he wouldn't have minded completing the curriculum in a single semester and be done with it.  Though he enjoyed his new lifestyle, he was eager to eliminate all time-wasting activities from his everyday schedule.  If he felt like lazing about, there were far better and more creative ways to do so, and more importantly, better surroundings to do it in than stifling lecture halls. 

 

An early graduation was a given; he didn't think he could face Lord Shihouin with anything less, and he was willing to bet Yoruichi felt the same, but it hadn't occurred to him that she might prefer prolonging her studies for different reasons.  In retrospect, he felt more than a little foolish for not considering the possibility.

 

"You don't have to follow my lead," Yoruichi said.  "But this is what I want to do."

 

Kisuke glanced down at her, smirking.  "Aaaah, I see how it is… You want to get rid of me."

 

Yoruichi shrugged in response, a hint of a grin on her lips.  "Well it _has_ been over a century now.  I'm ready for some new friends."

 

"Harsh."

 

Yoruichi chuckled, her fingers still toying with the rolled up schedule.

 

"All right, then," Kisuke said with a sigh, holding his hand out.  "I'll make some changes during lunch and tomorrow we can send our applications in."

 

Yoruichi handed it back readily, beaming.  "So… To Okada's?"

 

"To Okada's," Kisuke said, thinking that if he was about to go through the pain of re-adjusting their timetable for the umpteenth time, he might as well do it while snacking on a plateful of succulent yakiniku. 

 

Though food in the mess hall was generally passable, not to mention free, it hadn't taken them long to figure out that a meal's palatability varied greatly between cooks.  Opting to dine elsewhere for the hour-long lunch period was not uncommon between students who could afford to do so, and on a particularly sunny day such as today said numbers tended to double in volume.

 

On the way to Okada's, a true diamond in the rough they had unearthed a few months ago in one of their outings to the Rukongai, Kisuke tried to make his case for keeping _Combat Tactics I_ in the final draft of their schedule.  Mid-way through her counter-argument, Yoruichi came to a sudden halt, her mouth going slack.

 

Kisuke was about to ask what had distracted her, when he followed her line of sight and found himself having trouble to speak as well.  It was rare enough to come across a Captain of the Thirteen Divisions while out and about, but seeing _nine_ of them in a single group was downright extraordinary.  Not to mention highly suspicious.

 

The closer they approached, the more Kisuke could feel the very air he breathed growing heavy, resisting the overwhelming feeling of being pushed to the ground by an invisible force.  Even from a distance, at a relaxed state, the combined spiritual pressure of the group was monstrous.

 

Kisuke's eyes swept the scene quickly: the only ones missing were the Captain Commander, Captain Arima of the Fifth, the Kenpachi, and Captain Keita of the Seventh.  And they were all headed for the First Division barracks, followed by four men clad in black uniforms and long, white head coverings, the standard attire of—

 

"They're opening the Senkai Gate," Kisuke said; it was the only explanation for the presence of this particular subdivision of the Kidou Corps.

 

Something important was clearly about to take place, if it required a nearly full assembly of the thirteen Captains within the grounds of the First Division, where no soul was allowed without explicit permission.  Kisuke clenched his jaw, curiosity eating him up inside; if only there was a way to slip into the barracks, to listen in on the meeting or at the very least sneak a look, but the entire division was barricaded, there was no way in or out except…

 

Kisuke swiveled around, about to share his thrilling idea with Yoruichi, only to find his own exhilarated expression mirrored on her face: she was thinking the exact same thing.

 

Without a second's pause they sped off, retracing the steps he had first taken on his own 37 years ago, when he had started building the cavern that now served as their daily training grounds. Yoruichi reached the small alley behind the marketplace near the Ninth Division grounds first.  Kisuke closely followed suit, now keeping guard for any onlookers, while Yoruichi lifted the loose tilestone by the waste disposal bin. 

 

"Go, go," Kisuke said when he was certain no-one was approaching, and Yoruichi slipped down the hole leading to the sewers.

 

Swiftly, he followed her down himself, closing the entrance behind him.  He found Yoruichi standing by the foot of the wall ladder, waiting for his lead.  Navigating the labyrinth that was the sewer system of the Court was no easy task, and Kisuke had only ever needed to memorize the path leading down to the forested area beneath the Soukyoku Hill: any mistake could lead them down the wrong exit, if they were lucky; if not, they could very well find themselves trapped in loops and dead-ends for hours on end.

 

"Should be clear," Kisuke said, reaching out for any spiritual essences in close proximity.  In nearly four decades of using this shortcut, he had only once come close to running into a Fourth Division member; they conducted their clean-up work in the early morning hours, so unless there was an emergency, their path would be unobstructed.  "Still, keep your guard up—"  

 

"Yes, yes, I know the drill," Yoruichi said impatiently.  "Gogogo!"

 

Kisuke set off along the narrow pathway, his right arm grazing the wall.  Lighting was scarce down in the sewers, and though they were maintained often enough, he had more than once run into the occasional neglected area, avoiding a slip into the murky waters by a very slim margin.  He entrusted lookout duty to Yoruichi's keener senses, concentrating instead on leading them along the correct route.

 

Sometime around the five minute mark, he heard the all too familiar sound of the water propulsion system lying ahead.

 

"We should be making good time," Yoruichi said.  "How long is the walk from the entrance to the Senkai gate, do you reckon?  Fifteen minutes?"

 

"More or less," Kisuke said, pressing on ahead, following the gradually intensifying roar of the machinery nearby.  Making a final right turn, they arrived in a small, empty chamber, where the water stream flowed down into a narrow slit at the end of the wall and disappeared down into the darkness. 

 

"I love this part," Yoruichi said, grinning as she stepped forward, her hands and shoes glowing with a thin film of white energy.  She dropped down on the floor, maneuvering herself half-way through the opening, legs first, then shifted into a side plank position and pushed herself off into the dark tunnel.

 

Kisuke waited until he heard the distant sound of her reaching the landing, then dropped in through the slit as well.  The ride down the steep, sludge-covered shaft had indeed always been exhilarating, but Kisuke was certain he would never be able to separate the experience from the memory of the first time he had ventured down on his own.  He had decided not to share with Yoruichi that it hadn't initially occurred to him to secure his limbs with spiritual energy first.  The results had been… unpleasant.

 

When he made it down to the bottom of the tunnel, he saw that Yoruichi was already working on clearing the exit.  The small enclosure was hardly big enough for the both of them, and even Yoruichi could now barely stand upright without scraping the ceiling.  From beneath the floor, he could feel the vibrations of the hydraulic pump working to propel the stream coming in through the large grate, transferring it up to the Central 46 grounds.  With a grunt, Yoruichi pulled the grate up, lifting it off its hinges and pushing it out, revealing the woods at long last.

 

She stepped out onto the grass massaging her wrists and took in a deep breath of fresh air.  Kisuke secured the grate back into place and stepped up beside her, squinting up toward the Soukyoku Hill lying ahead in the distance.

 

Yoruichi let out a sigh.  "I hate doing this without the cloak," she said.

 

Kisuke groaned in agreement, knowing that they were in for a massive spiritual power drain.  Then, without further ado, he leapt up, propelling himself forward by forming footholds in mid-air.

 

They soared over the heavily wooded valley, closing in the distance little by little.  By his count, they were closing in on the ten minute mark now.  Though it was highly probable that it would take the Captains a little longer to assemble than their projected fifteen minutes, Kisuke pushed forward, determined not to miss whatever was about to take place.  When they reached the hill, he motioned at Yoruichi, pointing up toward the landing outside the antechamber leading into the training grounds.  Yoruichi nodded and they jumped ahead, dropping down onto the rock outcropping, both struggling to catch their breaths.

 

Kisuke pressed a hand against the rock, pushing his damp fringe back.  "Okay," he said, panting.  "So far so good, but is it really a good idea to climb all the way up?"

 

Yoruichi considered this for a moment, hands braced against her knees.  "There won't be anyone there," she said.  "Trust me, the Soukyoku isn't going to be guarded.  It doesn't need to be."

 

"How do you know this?" he asked, arching an eyebrow at her.

 

"Who do you think made it in the first place?" she said, smirking.  "Come on, we're almost there."

 

Yoruichi's assumption that the Soukyoku would be unguarded turned out to be true.  As they landed atop the hill, Kisuke couldn't help but feel a little wary and exposed, unable to completely relax even with the confirmed absence of any sentries.  The Tower of Penitence was empty, and the Hill rose high enough above the First Division grounds that it should be impossible for anyone to monitor the area from down below, but he still felt the need to stay out of plain sight. 

 

Yoruichi seemed to have no such qualms, so confident in her belief that they would remain unseen that she hurried forward past the execution stand.  Despite their daily excursions to the surrounding area, it was now dawning on Kisuke that he had never looked upon the grounds in such close proximity before, never realized just how gargantuan the stand itself was.  The pillars measured at least five meters in width, and Kisuke had to crane his neck nearly all the way back to make out the top. 

 

His eyes shifted over to the Soukyoku nearby, its curved blade gleaming in the sun.  The seal placed upon the formidable weapon didn't allow for a single speck of spiritual pressure to emanate from it, but the mere sight of it was enough to strike fear in anyone's heart.  Forcing himself to tear his gaze away from the magnificent creation and focus on the matter at hand, he caught up with Yoruichi, staying alert for the entire trek across the length of the grounds.

 

Yoruichi came to a stop at the far end of the Hill, crouching down by the edge of the steep cliff to look down upon the First Division grounds.  Their line of sight to the Senkai gate was completely unobstructed, though it would be difficult to make out details from such a distance.  Still, neither one of them suggested moving closer, Kisuke now kneeling down by her side and watching the gate like a hawk for any sign of movement.

 

"You don't think we missed it, do you?" Yoruichi asked.  "They couldn't have made it there first if they kept a normal pace."

 

"No, I don't think we're late," he said in agreement.  "But it might take a while before we see anything; for all we know, they could very well confer first."

 

His prediction must have been more or less accurate: though it only took a few minutes for the Kidou corps to make their appearance, the Captains were nowhere to be seen.  And 'lo behold, the four men headed straight for the Senkai gate, only to start making preparations, Kisuke saw to his shock.  _Don't tell me— But… Who could it be?_

 

"I always thought the gate is just instantly opened," Yoruichi said, frowning.

 

"It should be," Kisuke said.  "Same as any gate a Soul Reaper opens.  The only reason for taking extra time is if the passenger in question isn't in possession of a Hell Butterfly to begin with.  In that case, they have to travel through the Dangai, the Precipice World."

 

"Not in— Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Yoruichi asked, eyes widening.

 

Kisuke nodded.  "Whoever our guest is… they're not a Soul Reaper."  

 

For the hour it took the four Kidou Masters to stabilize the walls of the Dangai, Kisuke and Yoruichi sat in uneasy silence and growing restlessness.  It was only upon the first sign of movement down below that Kisuke realized he had long ago stopped fearing discovery; whatever was about to happen, it was worth getting caught for.  This time, the group of Captains numbered ten, the Captain-Commander leading the way.

 

Two out of the four Kidou Masters stepped down off the small dais, the other two remaining on either side of the gate as the Captain-Commander waltzed forward.  Kisuke could hear the blood pounding in his ears as the gate glowed white.  _This is it,_ he thought, leaning forward as much as he could without actually dropping off the edge of the cliff. 

 

At long last, three figures stepped out of the gate, closely followed by two Soul Reapers.  It was difficult to tell whether the three guests were men or women, but two of them were shaped the way men traditionally were, while the other was a little shorter, more delicately built.  Other than that small distinction and the blindingly white clothes all three wore, Kisuke was unable to pinpoint any other identifying characteristic or get a read on their spiritual signature when sitting so far away.

 

To his surprise, however, he saw that Yoruichi's eyes were now alight with recognition.  "You were right; they're not Soul Reapers," she said.  "They're Quincies."

 

"Wha— _Quincies?_ "  Kisuke reiterated, head snapping back toward the direction of the Senkai gate, where the Captain-Commander was conversing with the three visitors.  "Are you…?  Are you _absolutely_ s—?"

 

"Look," Yoruichi said, pointing at the now retreating three figures.  One of them, the shortest one, was walking on ahead with the Captain-Commander, probably heading into the First Division barracks, while the other two followed, along with the rest of the Captains.  "See that symbol on the back of their uniforms?  That's the Quincy Zeichen, their mark."

 

It helped that said mark was a stark black color, stitched upon a pure white surface; even from afar, Kisuke could now clearly see the five-point cross Yoruichi had called the Zeichen.  Certain though he was certain his friend was well-versed in history as part of her homeschooling, Kisuke had to wonder where Yoruichi had gotten her information from.  Whatever reference to the race Kisuke himself had ever come across in books gave only minimal information, focusing mostly on the defeat the Quincy had suffered at the hands of Soul Society nearly 800 years ago.

 

His unspoken question was answered the moment Yoruichi spoke next.  "I've never seen any in the flesh before," she said.  "Father always said there were so few of them left…  I wonder what they're doing here."

 

For once, Kisuke had no answers for her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**MAY 27 TH, 130 B.H.I., THE TRAINING GROUNDS, COURT OF PURE SOULS **

 

If there was one discipline her home training hadn't prepared her for, it was the art of sword wielding.  Stealth troops had little use for weapons that couldn't be easily concealed or carried, and as such, Yoruichi hadn't been expected to train with a weapon until joining the Onmitsukidou.  Though she was well beyond her classmates' level in hand to hand combat, she had soon realized that when it came to swordsmanship, she was playing on a level field with everyone else.

 

Much to her chagrin, soon after the first few lessons she came to find herself not caring for the discipline.  It was far too slow for her liking, and the unfamiliarity of combat with a weapon instead of bare hands always left her feeling frustrated and unsatisfied.  Initially, she wondered if it was some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy, wherein her fear of impending failure was holding her back from excelling in it.  In the classroom, her performance was always above average, but this wasn't a position she had even been comfortable with. 

 

Contrary to her, Kisuke took to sword fighting like a fish takes to water.  Barely a week after the first time he held a wooden practice sword in hand, it became a welcome extension of his arm, his movements sure and natural.  It shouldn't have surprised her as much as it did; he had always been highly talented and a quick study.  And yet she had grown so used to having a slight edge over him in combat, that finding herself in the opposite situation was a little disorienting.  His kidou usage had always been sublime, certainly better than hers, but this was the first time he had ever surpassed her in anything related to straight combat.

 

She lasted out about a month and a half, until finally, she swallowed her pride and asked him to tutor her.  It was a true mark of their friendship that he didn't smirk or tease her for it, not even a little. 

 

At first.

 

"Well, I suppose that could have been worse," he told her one morning, two weeks into their training, as she knelt on the ground, clutching her bruised arm with her free hand.  "At least you blocked this time."

 

Pushing a few errand strands of hair out of her eyes, Yoruichi glared up at Kisuke.  " _Really_?" she said, in between pants.  "Trash talk?"

 

Though it was en inextricable part of their sparring sessions, it was always done in jest, and in the spirit of pushing each other to become stronger.  The difference to his taunts, however, was that the power gap between them in the past had always been small, whereas Yoruichi hadn't even once come close to besting him with a sword in her hand.

 

Kisuke smirked at her, resting the wooden practice sword on his shoulder.  "Did I hurt your feelings?"

 

"No.  You're just being petty.  That's unlike you."

 

"Petty?"

 

"You've been beating me every single day for two weeks now," Yoruichi said, pushing herself upright again, dusting off the kneecaps of her black hakama.  "There's no competition.  If you wanted to gloat about it, why start now?"

 

Kisuke tapped the sword against his shoulder, now pacing back and forth, a pleased grin on his lips.  "Because you've actually started fighting instead of just flailing your sword around randomly," he said, coming to a stop and holding up one index finger.  "That was Lesson One."

 

Yoruichi narrowed her eyes at him, wondering whether she had just been mocked or complimented.  _Probably a bit of both._   Before she had time to formulate any kind of response, however, Kisuke lunged forward again.  Still a little thrown by his previous statement, Yoruichi only barely managed to block, swiveling around to dodge and jump backwards to buy herself time to regroup.     

 

"Oh, don't get flustered on me, now," Kisuke said, twisting his sword around his wrist, the infuriating smirk still plastered on his face.  "Just when you were starting to get interesting."   

 

When he sprang into an attack once more, she was ready for him.  "This may be the most insulting thing you've ever said to me," she said as she parried his downward swing, pressing her free hand against the flat of her sword to hold her ground.  Kisuke began to circle around her, the two blades still crossed as he twisted his from angle to angle, trying to find an opening, but she matched him move for move, her gaze boring into his.

 

She saw it coming in his eyes even before he moved; Kisuke drove his sword upwards, giving her blade a sharp, strong prod with his guard.  Yoruichi was pushed backwards, now trying to keep control of her footing as Kisuke pushed forward with a swift jab aimed at her neck.  Sidestepping the attack, she dropped down and swept her leg, aiming for his shins.

 

Kisuke leapt, his feet leaving the ground just in time, but then did something Yoruichi could hardly believe: he made a mistake.  The one thing that made him such a talented swordfighter wasn't his mind, or even his speed, impressive though they both were: it was the fact that he simply left no openings, and she had never before pushed him hard enough to force him to do so.  But he just had, choosing to dodge her leg with a backflip.

 

Yoruichi immediately Flashed away, reappearing underneath him just as he was twisting his back, driving his legs up to give himself momentum to flip over.  Unable to contain her glee, Yoruichi aimed straight for his lower back, when his hand unexpectedly shot out and grabbed her blade.  In the second it took her to process this, he had flipped over her head, forcing her sword arm to twist into a painful angle as he kept a firm hold on her blade.  He landed on his feet right behind her, his own sword now hovering by the side of her neck.

 

 **_Bastard_ ** _!  How the **Hell** did he just—_

 

"Didn't I specifically tell you to _never_ jump during a swordfight?" he said, his voice laced with just a hint of condescension.  He let go of her sword, then lowered his own.

 

Yoruichi reached for her shoulder, giving him a resentful glare as he circled around her again.  "You did.  Which is precisely why I went for it," she spat out as she kneaded her aching muscles.

 

"So what made you think I'd make that sort of mistake?"

 

She paused mid-massage, realization dawning on her; he hadn't given her bad advice.  "You were bluffing," she said.  "And I fell for it."    

 

"Afraid so," Kisuke said, driving his sword into the ground and resting both hands on the pommel.  "Keep that in mind for the future; experienced fighters won't make such novice mistakes unless they're truly driven to a corner."

 

"I'm pretty sure experienced fighters wouldn't grip a blade, either, at least not one belonging to someone of similar power level," Yoruichi quipped.  "You wouldn't have done that if we were using _real_ Soul Cutters."

 

Kisuke nodded, giving her a shrug.  "True enough," he said.  "So to that end…"  He pointed a finger toward her, and just as Yoruichi was about to ask what he was doing, the sword in her hand caught fire, getting instantly incinerated into a million specks of ash. 

 

"Wha—!"

 

Kisuke didn't bother providing any answers, proceeding in destroying his own sword as well, before kneeling down on the ground to rummage through the discarded bag where they stored all training equipment for every session.  From within, he withdrew two sheathed katana, then stood back up, tossing her one of the pair.

 

Yoruichi caught it with both hands, her eyes still on Kisuke.  "You know, normal people use _words_."    

 

In response, Kisuke pulled the sword out of its scabbard, tossing it back on the ground haphazardly.  It was then that Yoruichi saw he wasn't holding a practice sword, but a very real, _actual,_ steel weapon.  Holding her own sword up before her, Yoruichi pulled the scabbard down a few centimeters; a beam of light reflected off the metallic body of the blade within.

 

"Is there a point to this?" Yoruichi asked.  "Other than your usual theatrics, I mean.  Practice swords are already balanced and built to resemble a real weapon in every way, including weight."

 

"The point is, quite literally, the _point_ ," Kisuke said.  "You're getting far too comfortable with practice swords.  Quite a different thing though, isn't it, a bruise from an actual cut?"

 

"And how exactly do you expect to cut through soul matter with a simple sword?"

 

"Oh yours is a simple sword, indeed.  Mine, however, isn't," he said, running a thumb over the red hilt wrapping.

 

Yoruichi could only roll her eyes at his ridiculous bluff.  "I'm well aware that we're not given our Asauchi until the end of term."

 

"Then I suppose I should be grateful Master Morita gave me special permission to acquire mine early," Kisuke said, holding up the katana and gazing at it fondly.

 

Yoruichi narrowed her eyes at him, wondering what he was even trying to accomplish with this blatant lie.  It _had_ to be a lie.  There was no way in the world Kisuke would have been bestowed such an honor and wouldn't have been bursting at the seams to tell her.  "You're lying," she said.

 

"Care to test that theory?"

 

"Ye—"

 

With a casual flick of Kisuke's wrist, the tip of his katana grazed her shoulder.  Yoruichi blinked, only belatedly feeling the gentle sting of a scrape.  When she looked down, she saw the infinitesimal scar his cut had left behind and all she could do was gape.  "How…?  How could you _not_ tell me—"  

 

When he came at her again, Yoruichi was so incensed he had kept this from her, not to mention a little jealous, that she became determined to make him regret he ever did.  It didn't matter that her sword couldn't cut him, or that she would most likely lose again; she was going to make him _work_ for this victory until her limbs gave out.

 

She could feel the anger course through her veins, empowering her, giving her the strength to hold firm when their swords clashed again.  Kisuke pushed, but she refused to back down, the muscles in her arms screaming in protest.  When it became clear that he wouldn't be able to throw her off balance, Kisuke took a step back and disentangled his sword, trying a quick, sharp jab.  Yoruichi sidestepped the attack, immediately going into a pivot and grabbing the handle of her weapon with both hands.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kisuke's eyes widen as she drove her katana straight for him.

 

For a moment, she thought she had gotten him; the sword cut through his shirt, but met with no more resistance.  _Dammit! So close,_ she thought, pulling her sword back as Kisuke dropped lower and went into a side roll.  Yoruichi pivoted back around to face him, immediately swinging her sword into a downward, powerful arc.  Kisuke managed to pull up in time, parrying her blow while down on one knee.  She had hoped her momentum would be enough to shove him down on the ground, but physically speaking, he _was_ still stronger than her and didn't yield. 

 

Springing upright, Kisuke pushed her back and, once again, Yoruichi was able to read the strategy in his eyes before he implemented it.  He was going to try a forward thrust; he was perfectly aligned to aim for her left shoulder.  And it was _precisely_ what she was counting on. 

 

Right on cue, Kisuke drove his blade up into a forty five degree angle and Yoruichi met his attack, going as far as taking a step forward.  What happened next took them _both_ by surprise: the tip connected with her flesh, but before she could register the fact that it hadn't actually pierced her, Yoruichi reached for his arm, grabbing a firm hold of his wrist.

 

They froze in that exact position, neither of them moving a single millimeter, both of them gaping at each other.

 

"You took the hit," he said in disbelief, at the same time she said: "You didn't cut me."      

 

There was a moment of silence, before the cogs in Yoruichi's head began to turn.  While there was really no reliable way to measure spiritual power, she was fairly certain hers and Kisuke's were almost evenly matched.  It wasn't a question of whether he was _able_ to cut her or not, but— 

 

 _Was he…? Did he just—? He **didn't**_ , she thought, fury starting to simmer at the pit of her stomach.  " _Yes_ I took the hit I was going to grab your arm and then go in— _WHY DIDN'T YOUR SWORD CUT ME_?"

 

Kisuke's face broke into an apologetic grin.  "Right.  See.  Er… I kind of—"

 

"You _asshole_!"

 

Pulling his arm out of her reach while he was still able to, Kisuke stood up to full height, raising both hands up in supplication.  "Just hear me ou—"

 

Yoruichi was nearly apoplectic with rage now, but there was still one small thing holding her back from lunging at him.  If he really _had_ been bluffing about obtaining his Soul Cutter, how on earth had he cut her in the first place?  "What did you _do_?" she asked, her voice low and pulsating with anger.

 

"Okay, so I assume you have worked out that this isn't a Soul Cutter," Kisuke said, still wearing his remorseful grin.  "I er… I made you think it was by running a very low current of energy along the blade, just enough to be invisible and give you a scrape."

 

A muscle on her jaw twitched; she tried not to look impressed by the idea and subsequent execution, and instead grit her teeth together.  "Why?"

 

Most likely reassured by the fact that he was still in possession of all his limbs, Kisuke let his sword-arm drop, visibly relaxing a little.  "You've been making great progress—" he began.

 

"Nice try."

 

"I mean it," Kisuke said, grinning.  "I don't think you've even noticed that I stopped holding back a few days ago," he went on.  "But you'd plateaued and I had the sneaking suspicion that it had a lot to do with the fact that there was no real risk involved.  It takes a long time to get comfortable with the idea of getting cut and not allow that fear to hold you back.  Add a layer of anger on top of that and it should have been a disaster, but anger works for you; it gives you drive and focus.  You wanted to win so bad that you not only stopped fearing the blade, you actually weighed the pros and cons and decided to take a hit that would give you a clear opening to cut me down.  That was Lesson Two."

 

Yoruichi tried not to allow herself to be swayed by the praise, holding on to her anger the way a dragon coveted its gold.  "I'm almost afraid to ask what Lesson Three is," she said.

 

"Beats me; I've been making it all up on the spot."

 

She couldn't help it; she laughed.  Shaking her head at him, Yoruichi bit down on her cheek, determined not to concede and admit that it had been a very fruitful training session.

 

Beaming at her, Kisuke held out his hand for her sword.  Yoruichi whacked him once on the head with the flat part of the blade, before she shoved it into his waiting hand.  To his credit, he didn't even try to dodge. 

 

"By the way, we won't be bothering with a katana for much longer," Kisuke said, kneeling down next to the bag again and setting the swords aside.  "At least not on a daily basis."

 

"What?  Why not?"

 

"It doesn't really fit your style," he said.  "Surely you've noticed?"

 

Well, of course she had, but learning how to fight with a sword was unfortunately a necessity: she couldn't very well go up against an armed opponent with a dagger; that would be suicide.  Smaller weapons were perfect for stealth missions, but of very little use in open confrontations against their larger counterparts.  "Are you actually suggesting I go up against a katana user with a smaller weapon?" she said, arching one eyebrow in disbelief.

 

"If you were anyone else, I wouldn't," he said, withdrawing his hand from the bag and pulling out a small, sheathed weapon.  "But your speed makes it possible."  Standing back up, he approached her, pointing toward her right wrist.  "May I?"

 

Unsure of what he was getting at, Yoruichi extended her arm forward somewhat hesitantly.

 

Kisuke wrapped his hand around her wrist, gently lifting her arm into a 90 degree angle, then twisted her forearm out toward him.  He unsheathed the small sword, slipping the handle into the cradle of her slack fingers and rested the flat part of the blade against her forearm.  "Hmmm, yes," he said.  "You don't want a wakizashi; the tantou will work for you.  See how the tip just barely goes past your elbow?"

 

Yoruichi held the grip more tightly, unfolding her arm while keeping the blade pressed up against her skin.

 

"A wakizashi would be too long; you'd risk injury," Kisuke said.

 

"Injury?  Doing wha—?"

 

Before she could finish her sentence, Kisuke had kicked up one of the discarded swords and brought it down upon her.  It was a quick move, but not nearly as fast as what he was capable of.  In the split second his deliberate slowness afforded her, Yoruichi instinctively understood how to counter.  Moving her forearm in front of her face, flattened blade facing Kisuke, she managed to guard as the two blades met with a loud clang.  The blow hurt and would surely leave a bruise, but it was nothing compared to the wound an actual cut would have inflicted.

 

Kisuke smiled at her, drawing his sword back.  "You see?  The tantou becomes your armor: you mostly use it to block and save yourself, to create either an opening or a way out."

 

Yoruichi reflected on his suggestion, holding the tantou out, running her fingers over the sleek surface of the blade.  As a Soul Reaper, wielding a weapon was essential for channeling her spiritual power and reaching new heights.  Though she had known in her heart of hearts that she was unsuited for swordsmanship and would most likely be partial to smaller weapons, she had accepted the use of a katana as an inevitable necessity, banking on her speed to make up for her less-than-desirable mastery of the weapon.  She had never before believed that switching to something more manageable would be an actually viable strategy against a katana wielder.  "A tantou, huh?"

 

"Yes.  A wakizashi is too long for your arm," Kisuke explained.  "Imagine pulling the exact same move with a wakizashi, only your opponent hits the part of the blade protruding from your elbow.  If your grip is slack, you get disarmed.  If it's too tight, you risk getting your wrist broken.  Moreover, with a custom-built tantou, you can get the tip to stick out juuuuust long enough to cut when you swing your arm: defend with the flat side, then twist your arm and inflict a cut just as you make your escape."

 

"You seem to have given this a fair bit of thought," Yoruichi said.

 

Kisuke waved a hand flippantly.  "It was obvious the katana wasn't right for you from day one," he said.  "You _can_ become a decent sword fighter with enough training, but it will only handicap you in the long run," he said.  "Your true weapon is your own body, so if you _have_ to be armed, you might as well choose something that doesn't work against your natural flow as a fighter."

 

"Then why the Hell did you have me train with a katana in the first place?"

 

"Because now you know both its limitations and its capabilities," Kisuke said.  "You know exactly how slow a swing is, you have a feel for the weapon's reach.  And you can thus exploit its weaknesses.  I have no doubt Master Morita will reach the same conclusion, but it will be at least three weeks until we start training with daggers and smaller weapons; I figured you'd prefer an earlier start."

 

Yoruichi stared at Kisuke, a little humbled by the amount of forethought and effort he had put into training her.  She suspected he was right; Master Morita had more than enough experience to know which weapon would ultimately suit her, but he had to move at a pace that benefited the entire class, whereas Kisuke was already intimately aware of her strengths and weaknesses as a fighter.  She couldn't even find it in herself to be truly angry at him for the deception anymore, since it had proven to be so effective.  Still, he wasn't _entirely_ off the hook.

 

"I'm not saying it," she said, handing him the tantou back.

 

Kisuke feigned disappointment, a slump on his shoulders as he retrieved both weapons and placed them back in the bag.  He shouldered it, his expression growing more and more pitiful by the second as they made their way toward the ladder.

 

"I'm _not_ ," Yoruichi reiterated.  "So drop the act."

 

"It's all right.  I didn't do it for the praise," Kisuke said, letting out a gentle sigh and setting hand and foot on the ladder as though he were carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

 

"Oh, for crying out— You're gonna keep this up all day long, aren't you?"

 

"I'm not quite certain what you m—"

 

" _Fine_ ," she growled, rolling her eyes at him.  "You're a great teacher," she said in monotone.  "That it?  Are you happy now?"

 

It was almost comical how fast his expression shifted.  "Quite happy, yes," he said, his smile broad and vibrant. 

 

 _Ugh, you utter **manchild** ,_ she thought, watching him Flash Step up to the top of the ladder.  She quickly followed suit, vowing to take him down a peg or two next time they sparred on _her_ terms.  When she reached the antechamber, she found him standing by the first aid station, perusing a shelf full of healing balms. 

 

Their small supply room was forever a work in progress, holding whatever provisions they had deemed necessary over the years.  Kisuke's ratty, forty year old futon was still there in the middle of the room.  At some point they had discussed getting a new one and had even made the purchase, yet somehow, the new futon had stayed rolled up in a corner and never been used.  The back wall had been fitted with shelves and cupboards, half of which contained bandages, towels and various concoctions courtesy of the plentiful Shiba herb garden.  The other half contained multiple jars full of water and a few dry rations.  They had once joked that those would only prove useful during wartime, yet they found themselves having to replenish their stock over and over again as they would often return from a training session, feeling ravenous.

 

The weapon racks were a relatively new addition; as adolescents, they had agreed that they got into enough scrapes as it were using nothing but their bare arms, so the inclusion of weapons had been deemed a bad idea before they had a better handle on their healing spells.  Yoruichi saw that Kisuke had now hung the two katana and a few smaller weapons on the racks. 

 

"Alcohol's still good," Kisuke said when he heard her approach.  "So is the chamomile extract, but we're running low on white willow bark balm."     

 

"I'll get more from Kuukaku," Yoruichi said, stretching and making her way down on the futon.

 

Kisuke joined her, taking a seat right across her and beckoning her forward.  Yoruichi saw that he had brought over some plaster and a bottle of alcohol.  "Can't you just heal it?" she said, scrunching up her nose.

 

"Spells are not the answer to everything," he said, giving her a grin.  "It's a tiny cut; it's best to just let your body regenerate tissue on its own when you can."

 

Pouting, Yoruichi scooted closer, then shifted around so that her left shoulder was facing him.  Once he was done patching up the small cut, he held his hand out wordlessly and Yoruichi shifted again, now facing him.  She surrendered her forearms to him, watching as he inspected them for any bruising.

 

"I thought I got you four times," he said, frowning.

 

"Nope, three.  I faked the fourth one."

 

"Your reflexes are out of this world," Kisuke said, shaking his head in disbelief.  Placing his left forearm right beneath hers to keep it steady, he hovered his free hand over the slightly yellowing skin near her wrist, a green glow now emanating from his palm.

 

"Well of course they are; I've been training longer than anyone here."

 

Kisuke's eyes flitted up just for a second, before he glanced down again.  "There is a big difference between being given an opportunity and actually rising to the occasion," he said.  "Your cousins have been training just as long as you have, some even longer, and yet none of them are anywhere near your level."  When he looked up again, there was a hint of a smirk on his lips and a very shrewd look in his eyes.  "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

 

Yoruichi rolled her eyes at him, trying –and failing- not to look pleased.  "You're not too shabby yourself.  I'm a little surprised, to be honest," she said.  "You've always been a good sparring partner, but put a sword in your hand and you just… transform."

 

Kisuke didn't meet her gaze, but there was now visible tension in his shoulders.  Yoruichi watched him work in silence for a few seconds, the cool touch of the kaidou soothing her soreness away little by little. 

 

"You know…" she went on.  "Maybe Kidou isn't your calling, after all.  You're very gifted at it; I mean, I'm pretty sure Instructor Aoki will be popping the question any day now—" Kisuke laughed, keeping his eyes firmly focused on his task.  "And that's not diminished by the fact that perhaps you have another talent, as well," she said.  "It's okay to enjoy both."

 

This time he did look up, their eyes locking together.  She knew that he could understand the full intent behind her words; joining the Kidou Corps was no longer the only logical option for someone of his strengths.  In fact, she had to wonder how he could have ever possibly thought it was.    

 

"I won't lie," she said, suddenly eager to break the tension of the moment; every now and then, he would get this look in his eyes that she couldn't quite decipher, a deep, penetrating gaze that left her balancing precariously on the line between warmth and discomfort.  "It does throw me a little, when the first time I saw you at your debut in court you couldn't stop shaking in your shoes," she teased.  "Makes me wonder whatever happened to that meek little boy."

 

"He met you."

 

Yoruichi scoffed, making an only barely passable attempt at feigning affront, returning Kisuke's smirk.  "You realize, of course, that this means I'll also stop holding back in hand-to-hand training starting tomorrow," she said.

 

Kisuke arched an eyebrow at that, looking unconvinced.  "You've been holding back?"

 

The next morning, as he found himself lying back-first on the ground, the wind knocked out of his lungs, he discovered that she very much had been.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**JUNE 15 TH, 130 B.H.I., SPIRITUAL ARTS ACADEMY, COURT OF PURE SOULS **

 

"I could have taken you anywhere," Kisuke said, shaking his head.  "The Court, Rukongai… And you want to eat _here_?"

 

His mother stretched her arms behind her back, taking in a deep breath.  The walk around campus had had a revitalizing effect on her, her smile ever-expanding as Kisuke walked her through the grounds, passing by patches of grass filled to the brim with students studying outdoors, practicing, or simply enjoying the sun. 

 

"Oh, I can go out for lunch any day I feel like it," she said.  "I've missed this place; I wanted to see if it had changed at all after so many years."

 

"All right, okay," Kisuke said, holding his hands up in surrender as they walked down the path leading to the Mess Hall.  "Just don't say I didn't give you fair warning."

 

The whole day had been somewhat of an unexpected revelation, Kisuke mused, as he watched his peers filing into the building for lunch.  Having spent every weekend of his semester thus far back at the Shihouin Estate, he hadn't realized that a significant number of the student population stayed at the Academy even on their days off.

 

His mother seemed to be enjoying every single aspect of the dining experience, from the never-ending line to down to the vicious battle that always took place for the tastier, semi-burnt portions of the rice bowl, proclaiming in delight that this was definitely one of the things that hadn't changed since her days in the Academy.  She was still in a very pleasant mood when they took their seats on an empty table, trays filled with food.  Kisuke felt truly sorry for her; she was only a few minutes away from re-discovering that nostalgia was a far more powerful force than she had anticipated.

 

"I will be gracious and refrain from saying _I told you so_ once you take your first bite," Kisuke said, pouring a generous amount of soy sauce on his noodles.

 

"You know, I think your time with the Shihouins might have spoiled you a little," she said, frowning at him.  "You weren't quite so picky with food when you were younger."

 

"Trust me, mom, this _really_ isn't me being picky," Kisuke said, picking up a cluster of noodles with his chopsticks, eyeing it warily.  "One mouthful and you'll be begging me to go back to the Shihouins."

 

"Not today."

 

There was something about the tone of her voice that made Kisuke drop his utensils at once and glance up to meet her eyes; she was no longer smiling.  "Oh-oh," he said.

 

"Oh-oh, indeed," his mother said, her expression softening just a touch.  She laced her hands atop the table, all enthusiasm for her meal forgotten.  "I thought we should have a talk."

 

"All right," Kisuke said, pushing his bowl aside and willing his stomach to stop doing somersaults as his imagination over what she had to tell him went into overdrive.

 

"You can keep eating."

 

"Oh no, thanks, one bitter pill at a time," he said, bracing himself for the worst.  "So…?"

 

Losing no time with reassurances or trying to ease into the subject, she said: "That was quite a stunt you pulled on orientation day."

 

"Hmmm?"

 

"Ditching the carriage."

 

 _Shit._  "Oh.  Uhhh…" he mumbled, trying to think of a way to excuse the inexcusable.  "You… you saw that, then."

 

"I did."

 

"Just you or…?"

 

"Lord and Lady Shihouin, too."

 

 _Shit. Fuck.  SHIT._ "……Ah.  I… I take it they, er…"

 

"Were furious?"

 

Kisuke gripped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turned white, cold sweat running down his spine.  He was seconds away from going into full-blown panic, when something occurred to him, something that made his racing heartbeat calm down, if only a little.  "How come… how come this never came up until now?" he asked.

 

He had returned to the Shihouin estate every single weekend since the start of term, and he had yet to be punished or even lightly admonished for the incident.  True, Lady Shihouin had been eyeing him even more distrustfully than usual –that is whenever she had deigned to even look at him- but he had spent time with Yoruichi's father one-on-one, engaging in their usual shougi games and there had been nothing amiss.  Surely if he had been truly furious with him he would have had ample opportunity to do something about it?  More to the point, why hadn't his own mother approached him about this?

 

"For one thing, you know even the walls have ears in that place," she said, providing an answer to his unspoken question.  "Secondly, you were very, _very_ lucky.  Lord Shihouin was able to ascertain that it was Yoruichi's idea and there were no… untoward actions taken thereafter."

 

Kisuke arched an eyebrow at this statement.  _Ascertain?  What does that even mean?_  "How exactly did he—?" he began, but came to a halt, suddenly connecting a small piece of the overall puzzle that had both himself and Yoruichi mystified.  "Let me guess, a brown-haired, hazel-eyed man was involved?" he asked, remembering the man who had stalked Yoruichi at the beginning of term and had suddenly disappeared without a trace somewhere around the three week mark.

 

It was his mother's turn to look surprised.

 

"He wasn't exactly subtle," Kisuke said.

 

"Neither were you," his mother said, fixing him with a stern gaze.  "Just… be careful, won't you?  You're back on Lord Shihouin's good graces, but only because he grilled that poor driver until he very reluctantly admitted that it was the Princess who suggested it in the first place."

 

As much as he enjoyed bending the rules to a near-breaking point, Kisuke understood that in this case, his first warning would also be his last.  "Okay," he told his mother, for once being entirely truthful.  "I'm really sorry if I… if I caused you any trouble."

 

"It's not myself I'm worried about, Kisuke," his mother said, sighing.  Little by little, the hardness in her face dissipated, until she was gazing at him with only mild, and clearly affectionate exasperation.  "And no, no trouble that can't be solved by a generous measure of hair dye," she quipped, finally relaxing enough to turn her focus back on her meal. 

 

Kisuke could only cringe as she brought a mouthful of noodles to her lips, watching as she began to chew, normally at first, only to come to a stop after a couple of seconds.  She rolled the food around in her mouth, her expression not alike that of a person realizing they had just made a grave mistake.

 

"This is… worse than I remembered, by the way," she said.

 

He chuckled, trying very hard to resist the temptation to gloat.  "I know," he said sympathetically.  "Saturday is a bad day: it's Mr. Tamura's shift.  Highly pleasant man, nice sense of humor.  _Horrible_ cook."

 

After a long deliberation, his mother eventually swallowed her bite, shuddering a little.  Kisuke pushed the soy sauce bottle over to her.  "Anyway, I didn't come here just to warn you," she said.  "Tell me about your week.  Last time we spoke you were still having some trouble juggling all your classes.  Have you caught up with everything?"

 

Kisuke was so glad for the change of conversation that he launched into a highly detailed account of every single subject, even the ones he despised.  His mother picked at her food, daring to take a bite every now and then, when she wasn't commenting on his workload.

 

"And what about friends?" she asked.  "Are you socializing enough?"

 

As a testament to how grateful he was for her careful handling of the carriage incident, Kisuke only mildly rolled his eyes at her.  "Yes, the rest of the children agreed to let me into the sandbox just the other day."

 

"I'm serious.  I don't want you holed up in your dorm all day—"

 

"Mom, it's fine.  And yes, I've met some new people," Kisuke said.

 

"You have time to meet new people with seventeen subjects on your plate?" she asked knowingly, giving him an only mildly concerned smile.

 

"I'm… delegating my time," Kisuke said.  "I don't _really_ have to attend, say, _Introduction to Kidou_ , do I?  I won't learn anything I don't already know."   

 

"If you keep this up, you'll be graduating quite early," his mother said, her expression an odd mix of pride and sorrow, the same one she had given him the day he and Yoruichi had first departed for the Academy.

 

Touched though he was with her reaction to his growing up, part of Kisuke wished she would stop being quite so melodramatic whenever he reached a particular milestone.  He understood that their separation had been costlier to her than it had been to him; evidence of that very fact was written all over the fresh lines on her face and her withered frame.  His mother was nothing if not a worrier, and Kisuke had learned to accept that long ago, knowing she would never change.  Still, he couldn't help but love her for it despite the heavy dose of guilt her every melancholy smile brought upon him.

 

"That's the plan," he said. 

 

She stayed silent for a few moments, her expression unwavering, until she seemed to snap out of her small trance, taking in a deep breath.  "Have you given any thought into what you're going to do after graduation?" she asked.

 

"Well… it's going to be a while before I can join the Kidou Corps, but—"

 

"That's not what I meant," she said.  "Lord Shihouin has already made it clear that you're welcome to return to the estate.  In fact, I'd say he prefers it that way, but I was wondering whether you had plans to move elsewhere on your own."

 

In all honesty, Kisuke found himself more startled by that particular question than he had upon her revelation that his and Yoruichi's stunt hadn't gone unnoticed.  "Uhhh… Elsewhere?  I… I don't know.  I never even considered where I would live, to be honest," he said, feeling more than a little naïve as he voiced the thought out loud.  Frankly speaking, it _should_ have been one of his foremost concerns; he was nearing adulthood, and he would be leaving the Academy in only a few short years.

 

"You might want to start.  I'll try to broach the subject with your grandparents—"

 

"Oh good grief, you meant moving back into the Urahara estate?" Kisuke said, now feeling even more uncomfortable about the chosen subject.  "Ugh…" he groaned, his entire core twitching with an involuntary shudder.

 

"It won't be _nearly_ as bad as you're making it out to be in your head."

 

"I bet that's what everyone thought about the plague, too."

 

His mother let out a sigh, looking as though she was trying to draw strength from every single cell in her body.  "All I'm trying to say is that it _is_ rightfully yours.  And available.  Just something to consider."

 

"And I suppose there will be no strings attached?" Kisuke said, knowing full well there was no such thing as a free lunch when the Uraharas were involved.  "No arrangements to be made concerning, say, a clause in the contract about me having to be of age to inherit said property?"

 

"Give me _some_ credit," she said, a touch of disappointment coloring her tone.  "You've been the owner of all property your father and I owned for ten years now."

 

"I— What?" was all he could say, certain that he now bore a very strong resemblance to a fish as he gaped at his mother. 

 

Legally speaking, it wasn't outside the bounds of Soul Society's rules for a minor to own property, at least in the Court.  Given the mortality rate of Soul Reapers, the majority of orphans within the Court were often underage.  Once the number of recorded cases where no extended family was available to foster the children became high enough, legislation was passed allowing property ownership before the two-hundredth year of age, varying on a case-by-case basis.  Though minors were not allowed to sell or in any way manage their property until they became of age, ownership alone was indeed perfectly legitimate.    

 

"Your grandfather always claimed Urahara men mature faster," his mother said.  "So I dared him to put his money where his mouth was."

 

Kisuke very briefly considered jumping on the table and performing a victory dance.  Though he was certain his mother would frown upon him kicking the lot of them out – _Not that I **really** would.  Probably.  Maybe- _ the fact that he was at perfect liberty to dictate the rules of him possibly returning to the estate was the best news he had heard in a long time.

 

He reached for her hands across the table, clasping them tightly and giving her a beaming smile.  "See now, _this_ is why you're a genius.  Forget all that Kidou nonsense," he said, giving the top of her hand a kiss.

 

Pink-cheeked and pleasantly flustered, his mother returned the smile, freeing one of her hands to busy herself with trying to make his errant strand of hair behave.

 

"Leave it," he told her, putting as much affection as he could in the reprimand.

 

Reluctantly, she pulled her hand back and placed it over his, and in that moment, with the warmth radiating from their joined palms all through his body, he realized that he had missed her just as much as she had missed him. 

 

* * *

 

**JULY 3 RD, 130 B.H.I., 3RD DISCTRICT, WEST RUKONGAI **

 

Yoruichi held up the envelope in her hand, reading the address again.  According to the letter, Kuukaku's new home was supposed to be in the far end of the alley behind the marketplace, right next to a small textiles shop.  The description of the alley was identical to what she was seeing: a long row of nearly identically built two-story homes, all painted in varying shades of green, but no textiles shop.   

 

Stuffing the envelope back in her pocket, Yoruichi tried to reach out for Kuukaku's spiritual pressure, only to come up with nothing.  Her only other option was to ask a local for help, much like she had done when Kuukaku's conflicting directions had sent her a good seven blocks south of her destination.  The streets of the Third District were mostly empty at this hour, lanterns lit and homes filled with the steady buzz of dinner conversation.  A young woman stood outside on her porch, sweeping, and Yoruichi was about to approach her, when a sudden flare of power rippled through the atmosphere, accompanied by an all too familiar voice.

 

"YOU DID _WHAT_!"

 

The young woman froze on the spot, her bulging eyes trained on the pine-colored house across the street from hers.  A house right next to a _bamboo_ shop.  _How does anyone confuse textiles with bamboo?_  

 

Yoruichi followed the sound of Kuukaku's shouts, coming to a stop by the double front doors.  For a moment, she considered knocking and announcing herself, but she doubted Kuukaku would hear her over the sound of her own screams, so Yoruichi tentatively slid the doors open, hoping she wasn't about to make a bad situation even worse.

 

The sight she came across with upon entry wasn't an entirely unfamiliar one; Kuukaku's short temper meant that her brothers often found themselves on the receiving end of her wrath, but Yoruichi didn't think she had ever seen her friend quite so incensed as she appeared to be today.  Kaien was sprawled down on the tatami mats surrounding the hearth, holding up a sitting pillow in meager defense against Kuukaku, who stood above him, a manic glint in her eyes.

 

"DO YOU HAVE THE _SLIGHTEST_ FUCKING CLUE HOW LONG IT TOOK TO CONVINCE THE ELDERS IN THE FIRST PLACE?"

 

Kaien held up a shaking hand, trying to placate his older sister.  "Kuukaku, please calm d—"

 

"THE HEIR OF OUR CLAN WENT MIA ALONG WITH HIS LITTLE BROTHER, THE ELDERS ARE APOPLECTIC AND THERE IS A FUCKING _BOAR_ IN MY BACK YARD.  I WILL _NOT_ CALM DOWN!"

 

"It's only a piglet—"

 

Abandoning all vestiges of composure, Kuukaku reached for the heavy-looking kettle hanging over the hearth and swung it down toward the place where Kaien's body had been but milliseconds ago.  Her younger brother rolled out of the way just in time, scrabbling up to his feet and racing straight toward the exit.  Upon sight of Yoruichi, he came to a screeching halt, but thankfully for him, Kuukaku's attention was already directed elsewhere when Ganju came in through the back entrance, carrying in his arms a brown, striped little creature with a red bow tied around its neck; clearly the piglet in question.

 

"If you want to kick out Bonnie, you'll have to kick me out, too!" he said, his eyes shining with determination and unshed tears.

 

"I _AM_ KICKING YOU ALL OUT; PAY ATTENTION!" Kuukaku screeched at him.

 

Kaien took advantage of the momentary distraction to slip up behind Yoruichi, keeping a wary eye on his sister.

 

" _Really_?" Yoruichi said, glancing at him over her shoulder.

 

"Hey, she won't kill _you_.  Me, on the other hand…"

 

Kuukaku swiveled around toward them next, her face flushed with anger.  She didn't miss a beat at Yoruichi's sudden appearance.  "And where the hell have _you_ been?" she said.  "You were supposed to be here an hour ago!"

 

"And I would have been, if your directions hadn't sent me on a tour of the Third District," Yoruichi said evenly.  "It took a while to find you."

 

"Well, that's just the perfect end to a shitty day," Kuukaku said, rubbing the throbbing vein on her temple with one hand, her anger slowly deflating.  "Just… go.  We'll do the whole housewarming thing another time."

 

Yoruichi let out a sigh, then leaned back to whisper to Kaien: "You owe me one."

 

"What f—?"

 

"Well, I _was_ planning on meeting Kisuke for drinks after visiting you," Yoruichi said to Kuukaku.  "You wanna come?"

 

Kuukaku looked up, her interest clearly piqued.  "Drinks?"

 

With little more than a warning to Kaien and Ganju that the discussion was not over, Kuukaku marched out of the house, Yoruichi quickly following suit.  She thought it best not to engage in conversation until Kuukaku was well and truly calm, so they walked alongside each other in silence all the way to the marketplace.  By the time they had seated themselves in an outdoor tavern of Kuukaku's choice and the first bottle of sake arrived, Yoruichi didn't even have to try to get her to talk.

 

"…I mean, I decide to give the brat a chance and what does he do?  He changes his fucking mind within a _month_ ," Kuukaku said, filling up her glass and reaching for Yoruichi's, only to find it full still.  "You're not keeping up."

 

"I don't drink sake," Yoruichi said.

 

"Why the hell not?" Kuukaku asked, looking at Yoruichi as though she had just spontaneously grown a second head.  "Don't tell me you're waiting till your two hundredth…"

 

"No, I've tried it before," Yoruichi said.  "I just don't have much of a taste for it," she added, grimacing at the thought of the last time she had had some.  The memory of the hangover alone in the morning of last year's Maple Festival was enough of a deterrent from ever allowing herself to drink again.

 

"Well, then order something else," Kuukaku said, waving her pipe.  "I don't like drinking alone.  So anyway, not only does the little shit regret asking to stay behind in the estate, he keeps _visiting_ with Ganju every weekend, and then a few hours ago, he breaks the news that they're here to stay."

 

Yoruichi draped her arm over the backrest of her chair, reaching for a piece of eggroll with her chopsticks.  "So who's staying at the estate?"

 

"Kaien says he spoke to our grandparents," Kuukaku said.  "My dad's youngest brother is more or less Kaien's age, so I guess it would make sense for them to move back in for Isshin's sake, but that's not the point," she went on, circling a thumb over the rim of her glass.  "Kaien said he wanted to be the Head of the family, which is why I abdicated in the first place.  He can't have it both ways, keeping the title _and_ living in friggin' Rukongai until he feels like going back!"

 

"Maybe you're feeling a little jealous?" Yoruichi asked with a fond grin; she had missed Kuukaku's rants in the time it had taken them to get together again.  A combination of Yoruichi's preoccupation with school and Kuukaku's impending move had resulted in many cancelled plans, and she had hoped that with things evening out on her side, they could get back to their previous rhythm.  Unfortunately, it looked as though Kuukaku's troubles were only just starting.  

 

"You're damn right I'm jealous!" Kuukaku said, unabashed.  "I might've kept the title if I could go gallivanting wherever I damn well pleased, too!"

 

"Look, at some point you're going to have to let Kaien learn from his own mistakes, so—" Yoruichi began, but cut her sentence short upon seeing a familiar figure ducking under the low-hanging paper lanterns, his eyes searching the crowd.  "Kisuke's here," Yoruichi said, turning to Kuukaku.  "We can finish—"

 

Kuukaku made a sharp motion with her hand before her neck, shaking her head.  "It's okay, forget about it.  I just needed to vent a little," she said.  "Well, go on then, it's high time I met the famous Urahara."

 

Yoruichi raised one hand up to get Kisuke's attention.  Once his eyes locked onto her, he waved casually, a soft frown creasing his brow on sight of the stranger.  He made his way over to their table, coming to a stop next to Kuukaku's side as Yoruichi stood up to make the introductions.

 

"Hey," she said.  "I invited Kuukaku to join us.  Kuukaku, Kisuke.  Kisuke, Kuukaku," she said, pointing to them in turn.

 

"What a dazzling display of etiquette," Kuukaku said, chuckling.  She turned to Kisuke next.  "I hope it's okay I decided to butt in," she said, giving him an amiable smile, which he readily returned.

 

"Yes, of course.  It's great to finally meet you, Miss Shiba," he said, taking a seat next to Yoruichi. 

 

"Did you _not_ just hear me introduce her as Kuukaku?" Yoruichi said, slipping back into her chair.

 

"Oh, leave him be," Kuukaku said.  "The man's got manners.  Tell you what, I'll call you Urahara so we can keep things even.  Sound good?"

 

"As you wish," Kisuke said good-naturedly, looking away from the table for a moment to signal the waiter.  The young man hurried over, expertly balancing a tray on his left hand.  "A pitcher of mi—" Kisuke began, but Yoruichi elbowed him before he could finish speaking, knowing full well what he had been about to say.  Both the waiter and Kuukaku watched the exchange warily, as Kisuke recovered from the blow and spoke again, his voice croaky with pain.  "Pitcher of mugicha and another glass, please.  Thank you." 

 

"What was _that_ all about?" Kuukaku asked the moment the waiter left their table.

 

"Oh, you don't know?" Kisuke said, an enthusiastic, gleeful expression painted on his face.

 

"She doesn't," Yoruichi cut in.  "And if you value your appendages, she will _never_ know."

 

Honestly, how was she supposed to have known that ordering milk in a tavern would get people laughing?  It _was_ a drink, wasn't it?  And one far superior to _sake_ , for that matter.  Still, she had learned her lesson nearly a month ago and was eager to put the incident behind her, but Kisuke clearly wasn't.  Idiot had laughed himself silly when it had happened, and hadn't stopped even when she nearly punched his jaw off.

 

"Apologies, my lips are sealed," Kisuke said, shrugging.

 

_Damn straight._

 

"You're not making a good first impression, Urahara," Kuukaku said.  "First refusing to dish and then leaving a lady to drink all alone."

 

"Oh, the pitcher was for Yoruichi," Kisuke said, reaching over to pick up Yoruichi's sake-filled glass.  "I partake.  Every now and then," he said, bringing the glass up to his lips.

 

Despite his usual shrewdness, Kisuke didn't notice the minor shift in Kuukaku's eyes as she watched him reach for Yoruichi's glass.  Yoruichi herself only did because she had known Kuukaku for many years, and even she was having trouble translating the odd, appraising gaze she was fixing him with.  Over the course of the night, Yoruichi noticed it happen once again, this time directed at her, when she casually fished the bean sprouts out of her freshly-served ramen and deposited it on Kisuke's plate without being asked.

 

She had half a mind to drag Kuukaku over to the washroom and demand an explanation, but her friend's eyes quickly flitted back to Kisuke who was speaking.   

 

"…what I'm mostly interested in is the chromatic element," he said.  "Manipulating the forces of nature through kidou, like fire, air, that's the easy part.  Manipulating light, however, is just a notch below time and space.  How do you do it?  It has to do with altering the wavelength, right?  But—" 

 

"You don't actually expect me to divulge millennia-long family secrets to a near-stranger, do you?" Kuukaku said, an amused grin on her face as she bit down on her pipe.

 

"Well… don't I look trustworthy?" Kisuke said, giving her his best attempt at an innocent smile.  It failed spectacularly.

 

Kuukaku let out a bark of laughter, reaching for her drink.  "Even if I thought so, which I don't –seriously that was a shameful display- there's no way you could handle it, kiddo.  Stick to your little binding spells and whatnot at school.  How's that going, by the way?" she asked.

 

"Aside from classes… well…"  Kisuke said, running a hand through his hair distractedly.  "I guess the only truly interesting incident was that Quincy delegation near the start of term, remember?" he said, turning to Yoruichi.

 

"You're shitting me; real, honest to goodness Quincies?" Kuukaku said, her eyes growing rounder.  "I thought they were all wiped out about eight hundred years ago."

 

"Not all of them," Yoruichi said.  "Their numbers are down to nothing these days, but they're still around.  I was given to understand the only contact they ever had with Soul society was in the Material World, but apparently we were wrong."

 

"Any idea what they were doing here?" Kuukaku asked.

 

"Weeeell…" Kisuke began.

 

"Ugh, you _had_ to ask," Yoruichi said, shaking her head at Kuukaku.

 

"What, what did I say?"

 

"Kisuke has a _theory_ ," Yoruichi said.

 

"Oh?" Kuukaku said, turning to look at him with interest.  "Is it a good one?"

 

"It is, but if I have to hear it one more time, I'm going claw my own eyes out," Yoruichi said.

 

"I haven't been talking about it _that_ much," Kisuke protested, turning to Yoruichi.

 

"You were muttering about it in your _sleep_ ," Yoruichi countered.  "Half the library wanted to kick your ass for snoring and the other half for hearing the same damn theory for the fifth time that night."

 

"Well _I_ wanna hear it, too," Kuukaku said.  "Go on then, spill."

 

Yoruichi let out a sigh, tucking into the remains of her ramen dinner while Kisuke launched into his diatribe about how he believed Soul Society and the Quincies were getting close to another confrontation in the near future.

 

"I know it makes little sense given their current status," he explained.  "The Quincies have been weakened to the point of near non-existence, and they hold no power over Soul society.  So why would they ever bother to engage in a new conflict?  Surely they would be on the losing side.  So that got me thinking, considering the possibility of a partnership instead, but Soul Society has refused this in the past, even though I believe they could greatly benefit from such an alliance."

 

"In what way?" Kuukaku asked, frowning in confusion.

 

"Aside from the obvious, meaning having a first-response team to deal with unexpected attacks, there's a little something I've been mulling over, considering the origin our both our races," Kisuke said.

 

"Meaning?"

 

"Have you ever noticed that Quincy and Soul Reaper powers are the _exact_ opposite?" Kisuke said.  "Like the two ends of the same spectrum.  Think about it; all we know about Quincies is that they are the descendants of humans who possessed magical abilities. 

 

But how does magic even trickle down to earth in the first place?  Souls and Humans aren't sexually compatible to produce offspring who would inherit the traits from both species.  More importantly, why do historical books _never_ go into any detail about the causes of the conflict between Quincies and Soul Society?  Is there something to hide?

 

I mean, what if the source of the enmity is not entirely political, but goes a little deeper?  Going back to what I said about the powers being diametrically different, think about what it _could_ be like if Quincy and Soul Reaper powers came together.  They create a perfect whole, so what if they _were_ two parts of a whole to begin with?  What if—?  Oh, damn, out of sake," Kisuke said, bringing his tirade to a screeching halt when he went to refill his glass, only to find the sake bottle empty.

 

Yoruichi bit down on her lip, trying not to laugh out loud at the overwhelmed expression on Kuukaku's face.

 

Pouring the last bit of the mugicha into Yoruichi's cup, Kisuke grabbed both pitcher and bottle.  "Be right back; waiter's swamped and it'll take him ages to get to us," he said, getting up and heading inside the tavern to get refills.   

 

As soon as Kisuke was out of earshot, Kuukaku turned to Yoruichi, an amused smile on her lips.   "Is he always like this?" she asked.

 

"Like what?"

 

" _On_.  You can't get him to shut up when he's excited, can you?"

 

Yoruichi laughed, drinking the last few dregs of mugicha in her cup.  "That's Kisuke in a nutshell, yes."

 

Kuukaku sank into her seat, arms folded before her chest.  Her eyes followed Kisuke along the way, a strange expression of intrigue written on her face.  "I gotta admit," she said.  "I was expecting a dorky brainiac—"

 

"He _is_ a dorky brainiac."

 

"Cute, though.  All floppy-haired and smiley.  Like a puppy," she said, uttering the last word slowly, as though she was savoring it.

 

The pit of Yoruichi's stomach suddenly turned ice-cold, despite the warm ramen dinner now filing her belly.  There was something about Kuukaku's expression, the upturn of her lips, the dark, predatory gleam in her gaze as she looked at Kisuke, that made Yoruichi feel incredibly uncomfortable. 

 

It wasn't a look she was entirely unfamiliar with; she had found herself on the receiving end of similar stares from her peers at the Academy, and she had even seen that very look mirrored on other girls' eyes, most notably when Kisuke would be chosen to demonstrate his rapidly growing swordsmanship skills for the class.  It hadn't bothered her then, but it was certainly –and bafflingly- bothering her now. 

 

"Oh, please don't," she said, groaning.

 

Kuukaku shifted her eyes away from Kisuke and back at her.  "Mmm?"

 

"Just… don't."

 

The older girl's brows came together briefly, a challenging grin forming on her face.  "Why not?" she asked.

 

_Because… Because you're both my friends and it would be awkward.  Because you've only **just** met him.  Because…_

 

"Because there would be no Kisuke left in the morning," Yoruichi said, returning Kuukaku's smirk.

 

Kuukaku laughed heartily, taking a swig off her pipe.  "Oh, relax," she said.  "I wasn't _really_ going to; just teasing.  But since we're on the subject of Mr. Know-it-all… Do you really think there's any weight to all that crap about Quincies?"

 

"You mean his theory?"

 

"Not that two parts of a whole thing, but the possible conflict?  _That_ I can buy," Kuukaku said.

 

Yoruichi fell silent for a few moments, fingers toying absently with the chopsticks in her hand.  "Well, this isn't the kind of thing they'd let Academy students know," she said.  "But there have been rumors.  One of the second years claimed that she saw a small rift on her first outing to the Material world.  And we _did_ see that Quincy delegation, so it's very possible something is happening behind the scenes."

 

"A rift, huh?" Kuukaku said, turning thoughtful.  "Last time _that_ happened…" she trailed off.

 

"I know," Yoruichi said, wishing for the first time that night that the drink in her glass was sake instead.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**AUGUST 1 ST, 130 B.H.I., SHIHOUIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS **

 

With a stack of hairpins pinched between her teeth, Yoruichi struggled to secure her hair into a topknot, wondering if the effort wasn't futile after all; aside from the fact that her nearly waist-length hair was starting to get well and truly out of control, the mere effort to keep it off her neck to stay cool was making her sweat even more.  When she finally succeeded in her endeavor, certain she must have stuck at least fifty hairpins in her sloppy updo, she could feel her shirt cling to her back uncomfortably.  Letting out a sigh, she plopped down on the grass and let the wind breezing past the koi pond cool her off as much as possible.

 

It was the only place in the castle where the air didn't feel warm and sticky with humidity, and thus the only place where she could concentrate and get some of her studying done.  Kisuke, the traitor, had blown her off to spend the day in Rukongai, still bitter that she had refused to give him Kuukaku's address. 

 

She should have known better; when reading Kuukaku's correspondence out loud to him, she hadn't realized that one of her friend's throwaway lines about a litter of kittens in her neighbor's backyard would have caused such stir.  A child begging for candy might have had more dignity than Kisuke begging to go see the newborn kittens.  When it came to this, however, she _did_ know better: the damn fool would end up sneaking them all into his dorm and Yoruichi was in no mood to care for baby animals when he would undoubtedly find himself unable to be by their side all day long.

 

His absence did mean that her revision was going a little slower than usual, but if it meant she had an excuse to spend all afternoon by the koi pond, she didn't care.  Resting her chin on her folded arms, she propped her textbook up against a rock and read on, enjoying the breeze and the sound of the fat koi plopping in and out of the water.

 

She lost track of time, unsure of how long she had been there when she felt a familiar spiritual signature.  Lifting her head out of the book and turning toward the path, she saw her father approaching.  His eyes met hers in surprise, and it was then that Yoruichi remembered this was his small haven within the castle.

 

"I stole your spot," she said, an apologetic grin on her lips as he walked over to her.

 

"Nonsense," her father said amiably, taking a seat down by the grass next to her.  "I suspect we both came here for some peace and quiet, so why not share?"

 

Yoruichi smiled at him and snapped her books shut, lifting herself off the grass to sit upright. 

 

"Studying for your finals?" he asked, glancing down at the large tome now laid out next to her.

 

"I tried studying in my room, but the heat is unbearable today," she explained.  

 

Not unexpectedly, conversation revolved around her upcoming examinations.  Once or twice, her father found subtle ways to express his pride that she seemed to have performed well so far, even with such a demanding schedule.  And even subtler ways to hint that he hoped her overall effort would be reflected in the results of her final examinations.

 

As the afternoon gave way to night, the sky darkening little by little, they shared a bottle of cold mugicha her father had brought over to combat the heat, enjoying a peaceful silence.  Yoruichi ran her thumb over the rim of her cup, thinking about the past few months, and the rapidly approaching end of her first semester in the Academy.   

 

She could hardly believe how quickly time had passed, her anxiety over exams overshadowed by her keenness to return to school for the most eagerly awaited event in a young Soul Reaper's life: choosing their very own sword.  The only cloud darkening her excitement was the fact that she wouldn't be able to use it in the foreseeable future, due to the temporary suspension of training in the Material World for undisclosed reasons.

 

"Father?" she said.

 

"Mmm?"

 

"I know you come here to unwind and take a break, but may I ask you something?"

 

"Of course," her father said, turning to her.

 

It had often occurred to her that he was the one person in her life who would know enough to be able to answer her query, but she and her father never talked about anything that wasn't related to her duties.  This was uncharted territory, for both of them.

 

"There have been these… rumors in the Academy," Yoruichi began.  "Concerning a possible situation with the Quincies."

 

Her father's expression was inscrutable as he spoke next.  "Have there?"

 

"Second year students have mentioned seeing rifts in the Material World, and all future excursions for training have been suspended."

 

"I see.  And you're concerned."

 

"A little," Yoruichi admitted.  "But mostly… I've just been wondering why the Quincies would act against Soul Society's rules when they run the danger of being completely eradicated.  It doesn't make sense.  And yet all signs point to a new conflict, despite us having the clear advantage," she went on.

 

She would never admit to Kisuke that his own ramblings had caused her to question the situation, to wonder if there wasn't truly some sort of ugly truth hiding somewhere within the biased pages of history.  Though she had no doubt all history books were written to aggrandize the winning side, it was the first time in her life that history could very well be coming back to haunt them.  It made her feel that not asking, not questioning was just as dangerous as it was ignorant. 

 

"Were we...?  Were we in the wrong, in the past?" she asked.  "Do they have reason to retaliate, even if it means their complete extermination?"

 

Her father remained silent for a long time, looking at her as though he had never truly seen her before.  "You have a kind heart," he said.  "It is one of the privileges of youth, and I often forget just how young you are."

 

It was a great example of the practiced, carefully constructed non-answers of a man in power.  Yoruichi was about to protest, to argue against her dismissal as young and innocent and his evasion of the question, when he father held up a hand to placate her.

 

"This wasn't meant to be condescending," he said.  "I am not calling your kindness naïve or delusional, understand that.  But what I _am_ saying is that age and experience have a way of hardening us.  It is a paradox of life that we often become more practical the more we love, the more we have something to protect.  It is far easier to be idealistic when you are responsible for nothing and no-one but your own self."

 

"So idealism is a selfish concept?" she countered.

 

"No.  You will never hear me say that, or claim this world doesn't sorely need some idealism," he said.  "But it is not a luxury a leader can afford in great quantities.  I realize that there are… aspects of your life, of _our_ life that are not appealing, perhaps even stifling."

 

Yoruichi understood that he was talking about the never-ending rules, the discipline, the overwhelming schedule.  Though she had come to see their value as she grew older, she had never expected her father would ever openly admit their way of life was anything less than ideal.

 

"They are, however, designed to shape a leader," he said.  "Many years ago, Soul Society made the decision to nearly eradicate the Quincy population.  Even at that time, it was an unpopular choice, but a necessary one.  And that is the price of leadership: you will not always be loved, you may very well be hated, but every action, every choice, every decision you ever make will be for the benefit of this world."

 

"Then I suppose a kind heart is incompatible with leadership?"

 

To her utter surprise, her father shook his head, smiling warmly at her.  "Oh, no, my dear.  Quite the contrary," he said.  "Practicality and coldness are what makes a dictator.  Practicality, honor, a sense of duty and a kind heart are what makes a leader.  It is only a kind heart that can stare into the abyss and become the sacrifice needed to drive it back, for that is what it takes at times, to lead and inspire: sacrificing pieces of yourself to become the light in the darkness.  I would _never_ entrust a cold heart with such a task."

 

Yoruichi could only gape at her father, her mouth slack.  His lectures on honor, duty and responsibility had been a staple of life at their home; she knew them all by heart.  Whatever praise she had received as a child had always been the result of academic excellence, martial arts prowess, and a firm, authoritative attitude. 

 

Being praised for her heart was an entirely novel concept.    

 

"Never stop questioning.  Never lose your kindness," he said.  "But be prepared to steel your heart against the injustices of this world, and become the sword and the shield that it needs.  Because _that_ is what it means to be a Shihouin."             

 

 

* * *

 

 

**SEPTEMBER 2 ND, 130 B.H.I., FOURTH DIVISION LIBRARY, COURT OF PURE SOULS **

 

He had never expected this would ever actually happen, but Kisuke was already missing the Shihouin estate just two days since their return to the Academy for finals.  And it had nothing to do with the comforts he had enjoyed there during summer break, or the upcoming examinations.

 

All right, so perhaps the latter wasn't exactly true, but it had nothing to do with his _own_ approach to finals, but instead had everything to do with everyone else's. 

 

It had all started when Fujita Hayate, his perpetually anxious roommate, began to mutter about particle shape manipulation in his sleep.  It got worse when Kisuke decided to give the library a try, only to find it filled with panic-stricken classmates no longer caring about silence regulations and the librarian himself far too overwhelmed to try and control the situation.  And then it all reached a peak when even the outdoor grounds became a non-viable option due to the start of the rain season.

 

There was, quite simply, no peace to be found anywhere within the Academy. 

 

It was Yoruichi who came up with the best solution to their problem, suggesting doing their revision in a quiet teahouse.  It proved to be very effective, until she invited some of her friends along, who in turn invited their own friends, resulting in half their class now taking over three tables and work productivity slipping to about 38%.  Kisuke wasn't exactly opposed to a bit of procrastination –if it weren't for Yoruichi's insistence he may not have revised at all- but he was growing tired of answering the same questions three to four times to different people who hadn't been paying attention at the time he had first given his explanation.

 

Following up on the suggestion of their Anatomy professor, Kisuke claimed he was going to visit the Fourth Division library to pick up some extra studying material for their final, if only to escape the semi-disastrous study group.  Upon arrival to the library, however, he found himself unwilling to leave.  Three times as large as the Academy library and twice as quiet, even on the latter's quieter days, it was a godsend.  Even more importantly, its countless shelves of archived material, both common and rare, was enough to keep Kisuke jumping from volume to volume with no end in sight.  Three hours later, he was still there.      

 

The only thing that forced him to check out some material and decide to return to the teahouse was the knowledge that Yoruichi was going to kill him dead if he ditched her.  He knew he was already doomed to get an earful at the very least, but he hoped the promise of a quiet studying place would appease her wrath. 

 

With a grunt, Kisuke deposited his armful of books upon the checkout counter, resulting in a thud echoing throughout the quiet library and a visibly peeved librarian.  Kisuke grinned at the lady apologetically.  "Sorry."

 

The librarian, a middle-aged woman with short grey hair rolled her eyes at him behind her round spectacles, letting out a sigh.  She turned her attention over to the small mountain of books, then back at him again, her glasses slipping down to her nose.  "You're an Academy student?" she asked.

 

Kisuke withdrew his library card from his pocket, nodding.  "First year."

 

"You can't check out more than five volumes at a time," she said.

 

"Er… Is this because I—?"

 

"It's regulations."

 

"I was under the impression that the Academy library had a limit of ten volumes," Kisuke informed her.

 

"It does.  But this isn't that library.  We don't allow anyone other than Fourth Division members to check out more than five volumes."

 

"I have a very important final tomorrow; I needed some decent reference material—"

 

"If you're a first year, you're taking Anatomy I.  Are you expecting your final to include questions whose answers can be found in," She glanced at the stack of books Kisuke had carried over.  " _A Manual of the Operations of Surgery_?"

 

"……I like to be prepared."

 

"Sure you are, dear," the librarian said, then held her hand out for his card with just a touch of impatience.  "Pick five and you can go on your merry way."

 

"But—"

 

"I have been doing this job for seventy years; I've heard every excuse in the book."

 

"This is a hall of learning.  Surely you—"

 

"Yes, even that one."

 

Recognizing defeat, as well as the urgent need to get moving before Yoruichi sent a pack of bloodhounds after him, Kisuke handed over his library card, then set about choosing the five volumes he most wanted to sink his teeth into.  Including the _Manual of the Operations of Surgery_ , just because.

 

"Good luck on your exam," the librarian said, once he was done signing for every volume.

 

"Thanks," Kisuke said, slipping the books into his back and leaving the peaceful sanctuary of the library in a sour mood, knowing what he was about to return to.

 

Navigating through the Fourth Division barracks was a little more complex than other division grounds; the specialized nature of the Division alone meant that aside from accommodation and administration buildings, it housed the central Relief Station for the entire organization, warehouses stacked with healing provisions, a separate library, and even small laboratories dedicated to medical research.  Ever since Yoruichi had hinted that perhaps he should look into a different future career, Kisuke had more than once entertained the idea of joining the Fourth Division, but had quickly dismissed it as fanciful.  Not only was he well aware Lord Shihouin would disapprove, he was certain that despite his interest in Kidou and Kaidou in particular, a career focused on nothing but medicine would quickly bore him.

 

Still, as the division whose members were the only Soul Reapers trained for any type of research period, he couldn't help but maintain a certain level of interest for their various operations. 

 

Which was how he found himself diverting from his path and heading over to the laboratory subdivision, telling himself he was only there to take a peek and satisfy his own curiosity before returning to the teahouse.  It wasn't exactly easy to blend in with the rest of the division members when clad in his Academy uniform, but whenever he drew more attention than the occasional questioning look, he pretended to be a sixth year student completing his internship in the Fourth Division.  It worked well enough for a while, until people started remembering it was exam period and began probing further.

 

Realizing he had overstayed his welcome, Kisuke decided to postpone any and all investigations for the future, frustrated that all he had been able to get a glimpse of were corridors and suspicious researchers.  As he was nearing the exit, a door to his right swung open and he nearly collided with the person coming out of the laboratory. 

 

"…no need.  We're getting a new shipment tom— Oi, watch it, kid!"

 

There was a moment, in between  swerving and reaching for his bag, and taking an accidental glimpse into the now open room, that Kisuke realized this was the only opportunity he was going to get for now.  As subtly as he could, he tipped his bag over, letting all the books drop to the floor.

 

"M-my apologies, sir!  It was my fault, I wasn't—I'll just…" he said, playing up the meekness angle as much as he could, while he scrambled on the floor, trying to gather his belongings.

 

The man let out a long drawn out sigh.  "Interns," he muttered under his breath, before turning back toward the lab he had been about to leave.  "We're getting a new shipment tomorrow, so don't bother."   

 

"So it's just the one?" came a voice from inside.

 

Taking his time gathering his books, Kisuke ventured a discreet look into the laboratory.  He couldn't see much from his vantage point, his line of sight blocked by an unfortunately placed table, but he could see the other researcher studying something large that had been hung on a rack.   

 

"Yes, the rest are all fully functional.  Make sure you dispose of it by tonight; the recovery team is coming to pick up all waste materials first thing in the morning."

 

"Doing it now, sir."

 

As Kisuke slipped the last book into his back, he saw the other researcher shoulder something odd-looking and man-sized, grunting.  In a flash of recognition, Kisuke recalled one of their earlier anatomy lessons, where professor Sakamoto had given them a brief tour of the laboratories, and realized what it was the researcher was carrying: it was a gigai, a synthetic body used by Soul Reapers to pass off as human in the Material World.  And if he had understood correctly, they were about to dispose of it.

 

The man Kisuke had nearly collided with closed the door behind him, effectively blocking Kisuke's view and gave him an impatient stare.  Shoving the last book in his bag, Kisuke sprang up to his feet, gave a quick apology and a curt bow, then hurried out of the building.

 

In the ten minutes it took to reach the teahouse, his mind was already reeling, exams and revisions now completely forgotten.  He stumbled inside, finding the group exactly where he'd left them nearly three and a half hours ago.  The only change was the increased number of empty cups and plates squeezed in between piles of books, and a now visible look of weariness upon all those present, most notably Yoruichi.

 

"Jeez," Harada said, once he approached their tables.  "Where the heck was that library?  Hueco Mundo?"

 

Kisuke waved the comment off, not in the mood to engage in pleasantries when there was work to be done.  Winded from the exertion of Flash Stepping all the way there, he motioned toward the back of the room at Yoruichi.  "Can I talk to you for a sec?" he said, trying to catch his breath.

 

Yoruichi's face was a stone mask of calmness as she rose from her seat.  The only indication that he may have fewer than two minutes to live was the manic glint in her eyes.  "Sure," she said, walking over to him, her jaw tightening more and more with every step.

 

Lingering close to the exit, Kisuke ignored the questioning looks they were receiving from their classmates.  When Yoruichi arrived, clearly about to go into a rant, he held up a finger and leaned in to whisper: "I've found us a great place to study," he said.  "Quiet, huge.  It's perfect."

 

Yoruichi narrowed her eyes at him.  "That took _four_ hours?"

 

"Partly," he said.  "The rest of the time was spent unearthing _this_ ," he said, holding out a slim volume out of the five he had checked out.  "Someone in the library told me it's where Sakamoto gets all his questions from."

 

Yoruichi assessed the book in silence, looking unconvinced.  "What's the catch?"

 

"No catch," Kisuke said.  "It certainly seems legit and if nothing else, it's good revision material.  And I'm giving it to you for tonight.  As a thank you.  For being such a great fr—"

 

"Oh gods, you _want_ something."

 

"……Kind of, yes, but this isn't collateral," he hurried to say.  "I just need your help and this is my way of thanking you for said help.  Should you choose to provide it."

 

It wasn't a lie, per se.  He had always meant to share the book with her, that much was true.  But it didn't hurt to allow her to think that he had picked it up for this specific purpose instead of accidentally coming across it long before he had found himself in need of her assistance.

 

Yoruichi glared at him, yanking the book out of his grasp.  "You _abandoned_ me here for _four_ hours!"

 

"I'll throw in lunch on me at Okada's for a couple of days, shall I?"

 

"Try a _week_ ," Yoruichi said, the anger in her eyes slowly dissipating.  "So let's hear it, then.  What is it?"

 

"I want a gigai."

 

"I… what?"

 

"A gigai.  You know, the synthetic—"

 

"Yes, I know what it _is_ ," Yoruichi said, rolling her eyes at him.  "Are you…?  Do you want to borrow money…?"

 

Kisuke grinned, shaking his head.  "No," he said.  "On my way back here, I overheard some lab technicians saying they're going to get rid of one.  Tonight."

 

"O…kay?"

 

"There's a recovery team coming in the morning to pick up all waste materials from the lab.  And it would be… preferable if that gigai wasn't in there."

 

Yoruichi stared at him in silence, her eyes growing a little rounder and her eyebrows starting to arch upwards.  "I'm guessing that not exactly—"

 

"Legal?  There's a… gray area," Kisuke said.  When she didn't speak again for a few seconds, her expression turning warier, he hurried to explain.  "It can't be taken off the premises by unauthorized persons.  Doesn't really specify the limits of said premises, though."

 

"Do I want to know how you know this?"

 

"No."

 

More silence.

 

"I mean… it'll still be within Academy grounds.  So not illegal."

 

Finally, after nearly a full minute of not uttering a single word, Yoruichi's rigid expression relaxed, now closer to only mild exasperation.  "Well… you lasted five months without getting into any real trouble.  Must be some sort of record."

 

 

* * *

 

 

**SEPTEMBER 2 ND, 130 B.H.I., MEN'S DORMITORIES, SPIRITUAL ARTS ACADEMY - MIDNIGHT **

 

Yoruichi looked over her shoulder for the hundredth time, even though she was convinced by now there was no need.  For whatever reason, security around the men's dorms was far laxer than it was near the women's; it had taken her nearly half an hour to slip past her own building unnoticed, but she had yet to encounter any obstacles along the way to Kisuke's, not even a single guard.

 

Crouching low to stay out of sight from window level, Yoruichi reached out, trying to pinpoint Kisuke's spiritual signature.  His instructions turned out to be accurate; his room was located in the east wing, third window from the left.  She might have considered double-checking the scrap of paper with his written directions, but the spiritual pressure she could sense emanating from within the walls was unmistakable.  Carefully, she reached up and knocked on the window twice.

 

A few seconds later it slid open, revealing Kisuke.  "Right on time," he said, grinning.  "Come on in."

 

Yoruichi climbed in as soon as he stepped aside, glad to be back indoors and out of sight.  As he closed the window behind her, she glanced around the room, noting that it was identical to hers back in the women's dorms in every way.  The window had led her into the small, empty bedroom.  "Can't believe I'm only now just seeing your dorm," Yoruichi said, waltzing toward the living area, where Kisuke and his roommate shared a low table and two zabuton.  The only other furnishing there was one bulging bookcase and a closet, presumably holding their futons and clothing.  "It looks… like mine."

 

"What did you expect?  Rolled up socks everywhere and last month's leftovers on the table?" he asked, chuckling.

 

"Honestly?  Yes."

 

"Sorry to disappoint you."

 

Arching an eyebrow at him, Yoruichi had taken but a single step toward the closet, when Kisuke practically flew over to the door, flattening his back against it.

 

"I _knew_ it," Yoruichi said, smirking.  "You're so transp— What are you wearing?" she asked, only now taking a good look at his clothes.  He was clad in all black, a white sash securing the waist of his shirt and hakama.  It was an outfit anyone in Soul Society could instantly recognize as the Soul Reaper robes.  "Where did you _get_ this?"

 

"Looks like the real deal, doesn't it?" Kisuke asked, grinning.  "It's just plain old black robes.  And there's yours," he said, pointing at the folded bundle of clothes on the table.

 

Upon closer inspection, she could see that the robes were of slightly inferior quality, missing a few key details like the cuts beneath the armpits, but upon first glance, especially at night, they would be more than passable.  Yoruichi had spent the hours between Kisuke's request and their meeting agonizing over how they were going to stay hidden, practicing lowering her spiritual pressure as much as she could, but she could now see she needn't have; they were going to be hiding in plain sight.

 

"Go change; I'll wait here," Kisuke said, taking a seat on one of the zabuton.

 

"Any chance your roommate will come knocking any minute now?" she asked Kisuke.

 

"Oh, no, Fujita left a few minutes ago," Kisuke said, an enigmatic smile on his lips.  "Don't suppose he'll be back before dawn."

 

"So we're not the only ones violating curfew?  Have to admit, I didn't see it coming from _him_ ," she said.  Even with what little she knew of Fujita, Yoruichi had seen more than enough to know the man was in a never-ending state of anxiety.  He didn't seem like the type who would be comfortable breaking the rules.

 

"Yes, well, the power of _love_ is stronger than any rulebook," Kisuke said.

 

"…Love?  What are you—?" she began, but suddenly, part of Kisuke's inexplicable earlier directions started making sense.  "Is _that_ why you had me drop a letter under Ami's door?  And here I thought you were going to pull a prank on her."

 

"Why would I do that?  Hasegawa is a really nice girl."

 

"I know.  Also very gullible."

 

"Oh, don't make a fuss; it's not like the letter said anything that wasn't true," Kisuke said dismissively.  "Frankly speaking, the only two people who _didn't_ know Fujita and Hasegawa are into each other are Fujita and Hasegawa."

 

"Fair point," Yoruichi said, withdrawing to the bedroom to change, wondering just how many more surprises were coming her way that night.

 

As it turned out, at least one more.

 

"No," she said resolutely, almost half an hour later as she stood before a locked laboratory door in the Fourth Division barracks. 

 

"Oh, come on," Kisuke said, keeping his voice quiet.  "I'd do it myself but I can't fit through that thing."

 

"What makes you think _I_ can?"

 

Kisuke looked up at the slim, ajar high window leading into the lab, rubbing his neck.  "It should be about twenty five centimeters tall and it's adequately wide," he said.  "Easy fit for a slim woman."

 

"You're forgetting something."

 

"Pretty certain I'm not."

 

"Something all women, even _slim_ women own."

 

"Er…"

 

Yoruichi pointed at her breasts very ostentatiously.

 

"Trust me, I'm not, but I often wish I could."

 

Giving him a sharp whack upside the head, Yoruichi approached the wall, arms akimbo.  "If I get stuck up there, there aren't enough lunches in the _world_ to get you off the hook," she said.

 

"Duly noted," Kisuke said, dropping down on one knee to form a step with his cupped hands. 

 

Yoruichi placed her right foot in, steadying herself against the wall as Kisuke boosted her up.  On eye-level, the window did look more than wide enough for her to slip through, but she was certain that a gigai never would.  "Kisuke, it won't work," she said, looking down at him as she placed her hands on the frame of the window.  "No way is a gigai fitting through this."

 

"They're very squishy, don't worry.  Though you might have to push a little," he said.  "There are plenty of workbenches in there to help you back up once inside."

 

Sighing, Yoruichi rued the day she had ever consented to this hare-brained plan.  "Two.  _Two_ weeks of lunches," she said, before pulling herself up and squeezing in through the opening of the window.  

 

Once her body was half-way through, she took a moment to inspect the lab and allow her eyes to get used to the lack of light.  Though the moonlight was filtering in through the open window facing the grounds, it was a slightly overcast night and half the lab remained shrouded in darkness. 

 

Three workbenches sat in the middle of the room, all of them empty.  From the day of their anatomy lecture, Yoruichi remembered that all three were meant to be occupied by the gigais the researchers were working on.  Even though they weren't real bodies, the memory of the sight brought a shudder down her spine; the visual had felt a little too close to that of a morgue. 

 

The parts of the wall that she could make out were covered floor to ceiling in shelves holding medical equipment, none of which was of any interest to her.  According to Kisuke, she should be looking for a large disposal bin, somewhere along the back wall.  Surely enough, there was a large shadow toward the back, one she couldn't quite make out, but the silhouette matched the presumed object, and she decided that she would never be sure until she entered the lab.

 

Taking in a deep breath, she flattened her core down against the wall, tugging herself down just enough for her hips to slip through the window, then let gravity do the rest.  The moment she felt her body begin to slide downward of its own accord, she pushed hard against the wall, pulling her legs out in a rigid angle.  When she knew she was in the clear, she quickly pulled them in, body clenching down into a roll, and she landed down on both feet with a soft thud, completely unscathed.

 

From the other side of the wall, she heard Kisuke clap gently.

 

"Cut it out, you idiot," she said, unable to contain a chuckle.  "And stay alert!" she hissed.

 

So far, they had been very lucky.  The few Soul Reapers they had encountered hadn't batted an eyelash at their presence, but anyone coming down the corridor would find the sight of a man waiting outside a locked room suspicious; she needed to hurry.

 

Wasting no time, she headed straight for the large shadow in the back of the room, relieved to see that it was indeed the waste disposal.  She pushed the lid open, then stuck one arm inside, blindly groping for anything that felt like a gigai.  Thankfully, the unpleasant task didn't take long; her fingers closed around something rubbery and when she pulled it out into the light, she saw that it was indeed the gigai Kisuke had promised would be in there.

 

Carrying it out was not as easy as she'd hoped: for one thing, even though machine parts and the like were not the same as regular garbage, the synthetic body was still one of the filthier objects she had handled by far.  Secondly, it was _heavy._  Heavier than an actual body of the same size would be.  Wrapping her arms around its middle, Yoruichi pulled the gigai out of the bin with a grunt, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor; there was no point in carrying it around until she could secure a way to get it out of the lab.

 

 _Now for the hard part,_ she thought, inwardly groaning at the mere thought of the time and effort it would take to pull this off.  There was, of course, a far easier, if riskier way.  The small opening wasn't the only window in the room; there was a far larger, more accessible one only a few feet away, and as reckless as it felt to use it, it would also be far quicker.

 

 _Screw it; we'll do this the fast way,_ she thought, approaching the door.  "Oi, Kisuke!" she called.

 

"You found it?"came his muffled voice.

 

"I did.  But we're moving it out through the other window," she said.  "Come back around the front."

 

There was silence from the other side as Kisuke considered this.  She could tell he was thinking of every single way this could go wrong, but eventually, he acquiesced.  "All right, let's make this quick."

 

Yoruichi hurried back to the front window and unlocked it, reaching out for any signs of spiritual pressure near-by before pulling it open.  The lab was on the ground floor, which made it highly tempting for Yoruichi to consider making her exit through there as well, but she knew that even if a stolen, malfunctioning gigai went unnoticed, an unlocked window to a lab certainly wouldn't.

 

Kisuke sped over to the window, treading on the grass as silently as he could.  Yoruichi lifted the gigai off the floor, then dumped it outside the window without so much as a second look, far too eager to get out of the room. 

 

"Meet me out by the treeline!" Kisuke whispered as she shut the window and put the lock back in place.

 

After making sure she hadn't left behind a mess, or anything that would betray the presence of an intruder, Yoruichi ran to the front wall, making a jump for the window ledge.  She grabbed hold of the frame, pulling herself up with a fair amount of difficulty; leaving footprints on the wall would be an instant give-away and climbing up without any foothold was considerably harder.  Feeling her back break out in sweat, she finally managed to slip through, quickly checking the coast for any incoming passersby.

 

When she was certain it was safe to make a run for it, she pulled herself through, going into a Flash Step the second her feet touched the floor.  She reached the treeline behind the building in three steps, her breath short mostly from the adrenaline of the moment, than the mild exertion.

 

"Never.  Again.  That thing. Was _ripe_ and all… fleshy and… UGH," she panted, resting her weight on her knees.  " _Never._ Ag—"

 

Chuckling to himself, Kisuke finished putting the final few touches to his project, then looked up at Yoruichi, grinning broadly.  "Meet our new friend:  Fifth Division, nice fellow.  A little too fond of the sauce," he said, making a gesture that mimicked drinking.

 

Yoruichi had no words: he had dressed the gigai up in black robes and even socks and sandals.  It was also sporting a lush brown wig.

 

Lifting the gigai's limp arm, Kisuke gave Yoruichi a wave.

 

She tried to keep her cool, she truly did, but in the end, she burst into near-hysterical laughter. 

 

"Shall we get our drunk friend back to his room?" Kisuke said, laughing along.

 

Yoruichi wiped the tears from her eyes, deciding not to inform Kisuke she had just upped her ask from two weeks of paid lunches to three.  It could wait until tomorrow.  "Yeah, let's."

        

 

* * *

 

 

**SEPTEMBER 21 ST, 130 B.H.I., SPIRITUAL ARTS ACADEMY, COURT OF PURE SOULS **

 

Hugging the back wall of the registration building, Kisuke kept his ears peeled for any incoming sounds.  The streets within the Academy were deserted at this early hour, all students and personnel currently in their respective classrooms, much like he should have been.  Kisuke glanced toward the outer gates that stood only a few meters away, hoping he wasn't too late; they had already been closed, two black-clad Soul Reapers standing guard, or hadn't been opened yet in the first place.

 

_Come on, come on… Where are you?_

 

The few silent minutes that followed felt like eons, until finally, mercifully, he heard the distant din of a crowd approaching.  Letting out a sigh of relief, he inched closer to the corner and waited for the opportune moment.  As soon as the crowd reached the registration building, Kisuke crouched low, sneaking past the corner and going into a sprint toward the student body.

 

In between the chatter and overall excitement that hung in the atmosphere, he seemed to have gone unnoticed by his peers.  Once blending in with the crowd, he carefully stood up to full height, letting out a measured breath. 

 

_Phew!  Made it; thank—_

 

Just as he was allowing his shoulders to relax, a hand shot up out of the pack and yanked on his collar.  Even in the massive jumble of spiritual energy flying about, he was able to recognize the familiar stab of sharp, focused power, and he knew he was about to see Yoruichi even before he found himself dragged down to her eye-level.

 

"Where have you been?" she hissed at him through her teeth, letting go of his collar.

 

"Did you—?" Kisuke began, standing back upright.

 

"Yes, I forged your signature.  I can't believe you overslept for this!"

 

"I didn't!" Kisuke said as they walked alongside their classmates toward the gates.  Though it wasn't unusual for him to be late for class, there was no chance he would have ever risked missing today's proceedings, not when they were about to be given their Asauchi.  He had hardly slept all night as it was, and judging by the haggard look shared by many of his peers, he hadn't been the only one.  "I had roommate trouble; I get the feeling Fujita is a snitch, so I had to wait for him to get going before I could lock Fleshy in my trunk.  And then it took a while to secure it with—"

 

His explanation came to a halt once he saw that someone was listening in.  Kisuke glanced at the onlooker on Yoruichi's right; the girl looked both horrified and utterly confused by what she had just heard.

 

Kisuke let out an awkward chuckle, not sure there was anything he could say to salvage this.  He settled for something amiable instead.  "Hi."

 

The girl took a very deliberate step away from them in response.

 

"What the Hell's a fleshy?" Yoruichi asked, as the student body came to a halt before the gates and Instructor Iwasaki approached the two guards.

 

"You wound me," Kisuke said, giving her his most intense incredulous stare, hand clutching his chest.  "Have you already forgotten—?"

 

Something about his words seemed to stir a memory within Yoruichi, and she suddenly looked up at him, eyebrows chasing her hairline.  "Wha—? The _gigai_?  You _named_ it?"

 

"Him."

 

" _Fleshy_?"

 

"It's a _very_ apt name.  Kudos."

 

" _Fleshy_."

 

"Yes."

 

"……Is this because I wouldn't take you to see the kittens?"

 

Kisuke chuckled.  "Well, I did have to fill the void _somehow_ ," he said, watching as Instructor Iwasaki called for order and asked the students to remain in tight formation before venturing out into the Court. 

 

As they stood by for the final headcount, Yoruichi's friends and some of their classmates caught up with them.  Despite the Instructor's request for silence, there was now a constant buzz of excitement rippling through the crowd, their classmates adding to it as they discussed their final choices and gushed about starting to feel like true Soul Reapers for the very first time.

 

"And you, Lady Yoruichi?" Yoshida Norio asked her.  Kisuke couldn't exactly say he disliked Yoshida, but it was a little annoying, how he would always assume the role of group leader due to his age and status as a minor noble.  Still, for all his arrogance, the two hundred year old was overall kind, even though he lacked the natural charisma of a true leader like Yoruichi; his good looks, casually swept back brown hair and green eyes did help make him stand out.  "What have you decided on?"

 

Yoruichi folded her hands behind her back.  "A tantou.  I met with Master Morita for our counseling session three days ago and he agreed that it's the best choice for me," she said. 

 

"Doesn't that put you at a direct disadvantage to a katana user, though?" asked Kaneko Kotone, pushing her long mane of black hair behind her ear.  Her slate grey eyes appraised Yoruichi with their usual shrewdness.

 

"Not when you use it effectively," Yoruichi said, her eyes flitting over to Kisuke for a split second.

 

Kisuke grinned at her, then shifted his gaze over to Instructor Iwasaki, who was now motioning the student body forward.  The gates creaked open, and they were steered outside, their Instructor leading the way. 

 

Master Murakami's store was only a short walk away, located –like the Academy itself- on the southwest quadrant of the Court.  Though he wasn't the actual creator of the Asauchi provided to all Soul Reapers, he acted as Nimaya Ouetsu's link to the Court, and even this remote relationship to the legendary weaponsmith was enough to grant him the title of Master. 

 

The line that formed outside the store moved at a near glacial pace, as every student was called forward for a short session with Master Murakami where they would choose their own Asauchi.  Sandwiched between Yoshida and Ueno in the queue, Kisuke briefly reminisced about his younger self, when he would spy on the store alongside Yoruichi come every September.  Eager to catch a glimpse of the process, they would pretend to stroll casually across the cobblestone path, feigning interest at the displays of the adjacent shops, while trying to imagine what it would be like to one day hold an extension of their own selves in their very hands.  

 

He wouldn't have to imagine for much longer.

 

After what felt like a century –but was likely close to half an hour in reality- Kisuke heard his name being called from within the shop, then once again from someone close to the end of the queue.  Looking over his shoulder, he saw Yoruichi give him a double thumbs up.  He returned her beaming smile, then took a deep breath and stepped into the store, just as Yoshida rushed past him, looking entranced with the sheathed katana in his hands.

 

On the inside, Master Murakami's store was very different to what Kisuke had expected.  Though every inch of it was clean to perfection, it was cramped with weapons to the point of being almost claustrophobic.  All three walls were filled with racks from top to bottom, carrying katanas of varying sizes, guards and colored hilts, while the middle of the store was split in three natural corridors formed by the two tall, bulging display cases that held the smaller weapons. 

 

Instructor Iwasaki stood by the entrance, holding up a long piece of parchment.  When he saw Kisuke walk inside, he glanced up over the rim of his spectacles at him, then returned his eyes to his document. 

 

"Urahara Kisuke," he said, crossing out the name.  "There we are… Master Morita recommended a katana, I see?"  

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"Off you go, then," Instructor Iwasaki said, pointing toward the back of the store.  "Master Murakami is right over there."

 

Kisuke gave his instructor a curt nod, then walked forward, slipping in sideways through the very narrow space created by the two display cases.  _How does Murakami keep this place clean?_   Reaching the end of the pathway, Kisuke breathed a sigh of relief, stepping out into the back of the store.  It was far more spacious than he had originally thought; not quite what one might expect, but at least it allowed for some movement.

 

Master Murakami was indeed in the back, scribbling furiously on some parchment as he took stock of the weapon racks.  He was a short man, on the burly side, with closely cropped dark hair and a pair of piercing pale blue eyes.  He was dressed in an outfit highly reminiscent of the standard Soul Reaper robes in hunter green, a long measuring tape hung around his neck.

 

"Er, excuse—" Kisuke began when Murakami didn't acknowledge his presence.

 

"Name?" Murakami said, not looking up.

 

"Urahara Kisuke."

 

"Katana, wakizashi or tantou?"

 

"Katana, sir."

 

Murakami slipped the parchment in the pockets of his robes, then seized Kisuke up.  "You're tall.  Ish.  Should be in the late sixties, perhaps seventies.  Arm?" he said.  Kisuke extended his right arm forward.  Master Murakami yanked the measuring tape off his neck, placing the tip on Kisuke's outspread hand.  "Fold your thumb in and hold it down.  Now drop your arm to the side."

 

Kisuke did as he was told, then watched as Murakami knelt down and extended the tape, holding it up just a few millimeters off the floor.

 

"Almost seventy two flat," Murakami said, nodding.  "You can let go."  He slung the tape measure around his neck once more as he stood up, then beckoned Kisuke to follow him toward the rightmost few racks.  He picked up one of the swords close to the top, handing it to Kisuke.  "We'll try the size out for now.  Don't make a fuss like that ponce before you who wanted to pick a color first, got it, Urahara?"

 

Kisuke decided he liked Master Murakami.

 

"Yes, sir," he said with a grin, taking the sword carefully with both hands. 

 

It was unsheathed, a simple, gleaming katana with a dark blue hilt wrapping and an oval guard.  Kisuke placed one hand at the base right by the pommel, resting the collar in the curve between thumb and forefinger of his other hand, holding the sword out horizontally.  As with any of Nimaya's swords, it was perfectly balanced, the long blade weighing exactly as much as the hilt.  Kisuke tried a few careful swings first, then held the weapon to his side to check the length.

 

Murakami mostly observed, only interfering when he deemed he had seen enough.  Kisuke went through five different swords: with the first and fourth one, Murakami remained silent for a good few minutes, while Kisuke had barely touched the second and third before Murakami swiped them away, declaring them unfit.  The fifth one turned out to be the winner.

 

"Seventy one," Murakami said, nodding.  "That's your size.  Now for the fun part," he drawled, pointing at the rack right behind him.  "Go nuts."

 

Kisuke approached the back wall, going over all individual holders numbered seventy one.  Almost every conceivable combination of available colors and guards was represented, and for a moment, he felt a little overwhelmed.  Though he cared little for such aesthetics, this was a weapon meant to accompany him for the remainder of his life; he couldn't very well choose something he would regret in a few months.

 

In the end, he settled on a black hilt wrapping, and a peculiar, interesting guard: it was highly reminiscent of a flower in a cross-shaped configuration, each part made up of small, intricate pieces that resembled petals.

 

"All right, then," Murakami said.  "Now to seal the deal: hold it out in both hands, close your eyes, and inject just a hint of your spiritual power in through the hilt."

 

Kisuke followed the instructions, not really expecting anything monumental to happen, other than him branding his weapon with an imprint of himself.  After all, the sword was meant to grow alongside him, change little by little every day until it became possible for him to communicate with the spirit within.  And yet, as he closed his eyes and released a small part of his power, he felt it seep into the very core of the blade, every particle of the weapon soaking up the energy as though it were a desert craving water.  When every last morsel of power was absorbed, there was a low hum Kisuke suspected only he could hear, and the blade sent a small pulse that undulated through his entire body, making his hair stand on end.  Even the hilt felt different now, radiating warmth and a sense of familiarity, as though he was receiving a greeting from an old friend.

 

Kisuke's eyes flew open, his entire back soaked in sweat even though he hadn't moved a hair's breadth. 

 

"Nothing quite like it, is there?" Murakami said, wearing a warm, cordial smile as he looked at him.

 

Kisuke could only nod feebly, holding the blade up with one hand, now fully understanding the look of adoration on Yoshida's features as he'd exited the store.  This had been, quite literally, one of the most intense, most intimate experiences of Kisuke's young life, even though it had barely lasted a second.

 

When he stepped out of the store, his brand new weapon sheathed in a gleaming black scabbard bearing the mark of its maker in gold, Kisuke was still in a daze, feeling not unlike he had spent a few hours underwater, his ears buzzing.  He moved toward the back of the queue, joining Yoshida, Kaneko, Harada and Hasegawa, who were already showing off their weapons to one another.

 

It took a long while until Suzuki Yamato, the final name on the list, exited the store.  By then, Kisuke was deeply engrossed in admiring Yoruichi's elegant tantou, with its crimson hilt wrapping and rectangular guard.  Instructor Iwasaki was performing the second headcount as the student body slowly assembled once more, and this time, the instructor didn't bother asking for order; he already knew it would be a pointless request.   

 

There was a moment, just a split second before he felt it, that Kisuke heard the low, deep rumble. 

 

And then, out of nowhere, with no visible cause in sight, the ground began to shake violently.  Instinctively, Kisuke took a step backwards, moving closer to the small crowd of his classmates; out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yoruichi do the same. 

 

The various shoppers and passersby in the street had frozen in their tracks, many of them searching frantically for the source of the disturbance as the ground beneath them all continued to vibrate, the roaring of the earth growing louder and louder.  Kisuke heard someone gasp behind him and it didn't take long to spot the cause for alarm; the front wall of the ceramics shop right across the street now had a sizeable crack running straight through the middle.  

 

Just as the first few screams and cries of panic made their appearance, the quaking slowly began to diminish until it stopped altogether, leaving a ringing silence in its wake.  No-one in their small group dared to make a move for a long time, as though they were literally petrified.

 

It was Hasegawa, a meek, soft-spoken red-haired girl who spoke first, her eyes flitting up and down the street as though she anticipated a visual cue should the tremors begin anew.  "What… What was that, just now?" she said.

 

She received no response.

 

Kisuke frowned, the theory already half-formed in his mind, but not daring to take true shape. 

 

Yoruichi must have read the hesitation in his face, the denial, and she gently nudged him out of his reverie.  "Hey," she said, giving him a look of concern.  Part of her probably knew that he hesitated to speak because he didn't want to give even more cause for alarm, but she understood, and so did he, that not saying a word was a far worse option.

 

"I… I think that was an earthquake," he said.

 

"A _what_?" Yoshida said.

 

"That's what they call them.  The humans, that is," Kisuke said.

 

"You're telling us the ground just… randomly shakes in the mortal world?" asked Miura in disbelief, taking his usual place by Yoshida's side.

 

"The Earth's tectonic plates are riddled with planar fractures," Kisuke said.  "The two sides of a fault usually slide past each other aseismically, but if there are irregularities—" He came to a stop when he saw that everyone in the small group was giving him expressions of varying degrees of confusion.  "It's… it's normal for Earth.  A natural phenomenon."

 

"But not for us," Kaneko piped in.

 

Kisuke turned to her, trying very hard not to feel resentful for her sharpness at this very moment.   "I didn't say that."

 

"There's no point in lying; people are already freaking out about this," Kaneko said.

 

Yoshida glared at her, his voice full with a warning undercurrent.  "Kaneko…"

 

"Everyone's already thinking it, I'm just saying it."

 

With their classmates' eyes on Kaneko, Yoruichi glanced at Kisuke furtively, a silent understanding passing between them: this situation was only a few steps away from turning into full-blown panic and they needed to act fast.    "Good grief, people," she said, rolling her eyes.  "It was just a nearby landslide; calm down.  And I'll thank _you_ ," she said, turning to Kisuke.  "To stop making wild conjunctures.  Save the showing off for class."

 

"I _did_ just say I wasn't making any assumptions."

 

"Then what's with the geology lesson?"

 

Kisuke shrugged, holding his hands up to placate her feigned anger.  "All right, I'm sorry; I guess it was somewhat ill-timed."

 

"Try _very_ ," Yoruichi said, her tone imperious, before turning to the group again and making it perfectly clear that the enigmatic event hadn't rattled her even a little.  "So, are we going to get moving or are we going to stay here, gaping at each other like fish?"

 

Though the act didn't soothe everyone's fears entirely, it did help restore some order in their group, an attitude that rippled out to the rest of their classmates little by little.  By the time they had all assembled to return to the Academy, the incident was no longer the number one topic of conversations in smaller groups, overshadowed by the renewed talk of their new weapons.

 

Kisuke approached Yoruichi as the student body walked en masse back to the Academy, leaning over her shoulder to whisper.  "Thanks for that back there."

 

Yoruichi slowed her pace, letting their classmates gain some distance between them before she turned to face Kisuke.  "They were all panicking," she said.

 

"I know.  I meant it.  Thank you."

 

"No, you didn't; you're the _King_ of passive aggressive."

 

Kisuke chuckled at that.  It truly hadn't bothered him, being the recipient of her admonitions just before since it had all been for show, but if he was being entirely honest, his words did hold a slight edge of complaint.  

 

"At any rate, don't worry," Yoruichi said dismissively.  "I didn't ruin your chances with Kotone; she didn't buy the story so she still thinks the sun shines out of your bum.  Probably even more after that whole geology spiel."

 

"Well, at least— Wait, _what_?"

 

"Never mind that," Yoruichi said, casting a quick glance around them for any onlookers before speaking again.  "So the whole… ground trembling business.  It's bad news?"

 

Kisuke pursed his lips, letting out a sigh.  He wanted to answer the question as delicately as possible, but he knew that Yoruichi wasn't the type to lose her head before impending danger; she could handle the truth.  "It shouldn't be happening.  Not here," he said.

 

"And yet it just did."

 

Kisuke nodded.  "I think it's safe to say that the Quincy rumors are no longer rumors."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a transitional chapter, I'm afraid, so I tried to make it fun with some academy shenanigans. Still, it does serve to set up everything that's coming in the near future, starting with some exploration on their respective Soul Cutters (and yes, that also includes individual Soul Worlds, as well as a name and a first release for Yoruichi's sword).
> 
> Unfortunately, like someone pointed out in an ffnet review, no known characters were in the same year as Kisuke and Yoruichi, as indicated by the fact that during Kisuke's Captain inauguration, most of them didn't seem to recognize him at all, or were far too young to make an appearance. As such, I had to introduce a number of OCs to be their classmates. I tried not to flood you with too many names and descriptions, since they'll be coming up every now and then, so you'll get the chance to get a clear picture soon enough. The Visored are going to be showing up here and there as members of the Gotei, but for the same reason stated above, they can't interact with either of them long enough to make a lasting impression. A pity, I know, but I do try to follow canon as close as I can.
> 
> As for that whole Quincy deal… remember way back at the start of the series when we're introduced to Ishida and Rukia goes to Urahara for answers? Both he and Tessai mention something about not having heard of Quincies for about 200 years, which was when the two races engaged in a serious conflict. Well, whaddya know, we're now more or less 200 years (230 to be precise) into the past from the moment Urahara shares his knowledge with Rukia. *rolls up sleeves* This is gonna be fun :)


	7. The Barren Tree - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might notice a small change in names and certain words while reading this chapter: I've decided to start using macrons to represent long vowels (like the 'ou' part in Shihouin, which I'm now writing as Shihōin instead) as it looks far more pleasing to the eye and is a clearer pronunciation guide. Let me know if it causes any issues with encoding and I'll change it back. 
> 
> There are many scenes in this chapter that aren't prefaced by a timestamp, but it's deliberate; you'll see why. Also, this chapter has been split in two parts. They're meant to be read together, meaning that certain plot points won't be resolved until part two, but both can more or less stand on their own. Plus, splitting them up makes for a much easier reading experience for you guys.
> 
> Also, I think it's high time I moved this up to an M rating. As the characters themselves mature, so do the situations they get into, especially in terms of violence. Either way, even if it's not entirely warranted now, it certainly will be in the future.
> 
> Enjoy the read, and as always, notes go up on my tumblr as soon as the chapter is posted. Speaking of which, I do allow anon questions on tumblr, so if you don't feel like logging in either here or there but still want to ask something, that's the best place to do so, so I can get back to you.
> 
> Cultural notes:
> 
> Kan: Not a Japanese thing, but a Bleach thing. Kan is the currency used in the manga, I'm just not certain if it was ever mentioned in the anime. There are a few examples of item costs on the wiki, so I've gone with pricing which follows that logic. 
> 
> Koi-koi: A card game played using hanafuda (literally: flower cards), the traditional Japanese gaming cards. 
> 
> Tekko: Glove-like hand covers, the kind Byakuya (and more recently Rukia) wears.

 

  **JULY 5 TH, 1909 A.D., URAHARA SHOP, KARAKURA TOWN, JAPAN**

 

The girl stared at him over the rim of the display case, a mixture of fear and fascination written all over her large, green eyes.  Kisuke pretended he couldn't see her out of the corner of his eye and kept on reading his book, every now and then taking a sip of cold water.

 

"Oh my gaaawwwwwwds, will you just _pick_ already?" Kotetsu Kiyone said to her, sounding as though she were at the end of her rope.  "This place is hotter than a demon's butthole; I want to go home already!"  Apparently thinking better of her chosen words, Kotetsu peeked over the side of the display case toward the foyer, where he sat.  "I didn't just mean your shop, Mister Urahara—"

 

"No offense taken, Miss Kotetsu," Kisuke said with a chuckle, not looking up from his book.  "And feel free to join me for a glass of water, if you wish."

 

Even without looking, he could feel Kotetsu was tempted by his proposal.  "The red one has better range, but the blue one is more sensitive.  _Pick one_ ," she hissed at her friend, then trotted over to him, taking a seat by the table.

 

Kisuke shut his book and gave her an amiable smile, filling a second glass with water.

 

Kotetsu held it up against her feverish cheek for a second, letting out a pleasurable sigh, before she gulped it down in one go.  "Thanks, Mister Urahara," she said, taking smaller sips after he'd refilled it.  "Don't mind Moriko," she said in a whisper.  "She may be a little jittery, but she's solid."

 

It was hard not to chuckle at Kotetsu's apparently short memory: it hadn't been _that_ long that she had acted very similarly to her friend around him.  Still, Kisuke wasn't the least bit bothered by the stares; both Kotetsu and Kotsubaki had been indispensable these past few months, not only staying true to their promise to bring him contraband from Soul society, but also bringing in new clientele as often as they could.

 

"I'm not worried," he told her.  "I trust you completely, Miss Kotetsu."

 

"Sentarō's bringing in this month's batch the day after tomorrow," she said, giving him a conspiratorial wink as she always did when conversing about the materials they smuggled over for him.  It might've been annoying if she wasn't so enthusiastic about being allowed in on the secret of both his location and business endeavors; the sparkle in her eyes made it rather endearing, instead.

 

He had no way of knowing whether either of the two young Soul Reapers had betrayed him to Soul society's authorities, but he had a feeling neither of them were good enough actors to hide the truth.  So far, his collaboration with them had had no ill effects.  If there was no change in the following months, he would consider letting Tessai show his face around the shop, instead of shooing him off into the storage closet every time a customer rang in.

 

Unfortunately, in order to earn new customers, he'd had to give Kotetsu and Kotsubaki a lifetime free pass on everything in the store, as well as give their friends generous discounts.  The first one was a no-brainer, as it was a fair exchange for the materials they so helpfully provided, and neither of them had ever abused the offer.  The second one, however, though good from a business perspective, was severely limiting the store's profits. 

 

It was to be expected, of course, until he could maintain a steady flow of clientele, and either way, his newest idea to counter said profit loss seemed to be working:  Kotetsu's friend shuffled over to them at long last, holding both a red and a blue Hollow Detector. 

 

When he'd first started selling them, Kotsubaki had lamented the fact that, according to what Kisuke had told them, developing a detector equally powerful in both range and sensitivity was nigh impossible, so _unfortunately_ , they'd have to purchase both if they wanted to be fully covered.  _Yes, how very unfortunate, indeed._  

 

"I ummm…" the girl stammered, not quite meeting his eye.  "I am having a little trouble choosing—"

 

"Oh for cripes' sake!" Kotetsu said, slamming her glass on the table.

 

Kisuke held up a hand to halt Kotetsu's incoming rebuke, turning to her friend with a smile.  "I'm not certain whether Miss Kotetsu has told you this, but all her friends are afforded a twenty per cent discount for their first ten purchases," he said.

 

"R-really?" the girl said, looking surprised.  "So I can get both for…?"

 

"Nine hundred and sixty Kan," Kisuke said.  "You know what?  Let's make it a round nine hundred; I'll knock off the sixty Kan."

 

"Okay, both then!" the girl said, all traces of anxiety gone as she dug into her money bag with a grin on her face.  "Does their range _really_ go as far as two kilometers?  The SRDI's detectors can barely reach one and a half at times."

 

 _Oh, if only Kurotsuchi could hear this._   "They do.  Feel free to test it yourself," he said.  "There's a money back guarantee if it doesn't work as advertised: full reimbursement."

 

Right before Kotetsu and her –now decidedly less jittery- friend left, Kisuke handed her last month's profits so they could be switched into yen.

 

"I'll send it back with Sentarō," Kotetsu said, giving him another wink before waving goodbye.

 

Once the two girls were a safe distance away, Tessai stepped out of the storage closet, looking peeved. His forehead shiny with perspiration.  "It's like a furnace in there," he grumbled, shutting the door behind him. 

 

"Is it closing time yet?" Kisuke asked, stretching.

 

"More or less," Tessai said, glancing at the watch on the wall.  "Lunch should be ready in about an hour, Boss." 

 

Though it hard started out as a joke, Tessai's newest way of addressing him seemed to have stuck.  Kisuke knew it should've probably made him uncomfortable, to be called such by a man who had been his friend for centuries, but it did have a nice ring to it.  He wasn't about to complain at any rate.

 

"Great," he told Tessai, getting up on his feet.  "I'll go take a nap till then."

 

Dragging his feet upstairs, Kisuke made his way over to his bedroom, plopping onto the bed unceremoniously.  Though he wasn't truly tired, the unbearable heatwave turned his already sluggish mornings and noons to downright drudgery.  As happy as he was to get back into inventing, centuries of habit could not be broken easily: his most productive hours had always been from dusk till dawn.  It wouldn't be a stretch to label him a crepuscular creature, much like—

 

_Hhhhnnnghhh…_

 

With a groan, Kisuke hugged one of the pillows on the bed and buried his face in it, trying not to think too hard about the other crepuscular creature in his life.  Though her letter had filled him with joy and he was perfectly comfortable with her choice to travel for unspecified periods of time, he couldn't deny he missed her terribly at times. 

 

For the eight years she had lived there daily and the ones before that, back in Soul Society, they would spend most of the day apart.  However, the knowledge that she was only ever a message away had always been reassuring.  Even when in the same room while engaged in different activities, their silences had always been comfortable, her mere presence enough to fill him a sense of peace, of belonging. 

 

Though he liked to think their current situation wasn't all too different in essence, part of him couldn't help but wonder if perhaps she was enjoying herself out there far too much to miss Karakura.

 

_Could I really blame her if she doesn't?_

 

Letting out a sigh and eager for a distraction, Kisuke rested his cheek against the pillow and gazed out the window, over at the cherry tree in the yard.  Green-leaved and flourishing, lovely even when it wasn't carrying its celebrated pink blossoms. 

 

 _I shudder to think of what **my** tree looks like right now,_ he thought, scoffing.

 

Feeling listless, Kisuke decided to sate his own curiosity and let his eyes slip shut, allowing himself to be pulled deep within his subconscious.  It was the first thing he saw the moment he opened his eyes again: the tree.  _His_ tree. 

 

"My, my.  And so the prodigal son returns."

 

Kisuke grinned at the sultry voice coming from behind him.  "Hello, Benihime," he said.

 

"You must be truly lonely if you deigned to show your face here," she said.

 

Kisuke turned to look at her, an amused grin on his lips.  "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you sound as though you've missed me."

 

She let out a scoff at the suggestion, brushing past him very ostentatiously to sashay over to the tree, sweeping her fingertips across one of its massive roots.  

 

Kisuke shifted his eyes away from her and her theatrics, taking a good look at the tree.  He couldn't deny that it had looked far worse, but it still made for a somber sight, so grand and imposing, and yet so dry and lifeless, dominating the center of his inner world.  "I don't know why I came here," he said, sighing.

 

"Yes, you do," Benihime countered.  "You just always claim not to.  It's our very own trite little repartee," she said, turning to him.  Taking in his forlorn expression, the look in her eyes turned from haughty to mischievous.  "Waiting for Spring, are we?" she said, her lips upturned into a smirk.

 

"Aren't you?"

 

"D'you know… I think I've actually grown fond of this dry old thing," she said, caressing the root next to her hand.  "At least it has character.  I've always found the other version a tad… lurid."

 

Kisuke chuckled at the sound of that, knowing full well that it was a blatant lie.  The tree in bloom was far too rare a sight to dismiss it so callously.  "Well, it's not such a common occurrence, is it?" he asked.

 

"True enough," she said.  "You're nothing if not accommodating."

 

_Aren't I, though?_

 

For the remainder of his stay they both fell quiet, their silence not a comfortable one, but a bearable one, at least.  It had taken them a long time to achieve even this much and Kisuke knew never to take it for granted.  Theirs was a relationship built on love, after all, but not trust, _never_ trust. 

 

To trust her would be to give her free rein over his mind.

 

But his heart?  His heart she could have. 

 

She had earned it, long ago, and it was how he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was yearning for Spring just as much as he was.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**SEPTEMBER 29 TH, 130 B.H.I., SHIHŌIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

 

Her nose was itching. 

 

 _No, NO.  Don't think about it.  Do not dwell on the sensation.  Rise above the distraction,_ Yoruichi told herself, gritting her teeth.  Readjusting her slightly aching legs, she took a deep breath in through the nose slowly, relaxing her arms, fingers caressing the gleaming surface of her Soul Cutter.  There was no itching.  No crick in her neck.  There was only her and the weapon on her lap.  Nothing else in the world existed right now.

 

_I am one with my blade, I am one with my blade, I am one wi— Ugh, son-of-a…_

 

Giving up, Yoruichi raised one arm in frustration and reached up to scratch her nose, grumbling as she did so.  From a short distance away, she heard a soft snort and she cracked one eye open.

 

"Oh, like _you're_ doing any better," she said.

 

Kisuke, sitting in an identical lotus pose right across her on the floor of his and his mother's apartment, opened his eyes.  "I was just clearing my throat," he said.

 

Yoruichi tossed a pillow at him.

 

With scarcely a week of practice under their belts, it was beginning to look like this wouldn't be a very productive session.  Master Morita and Instructor Iwasaki's instructions had been clear and simple:  _"Spend every waking moment with your weapon, but do not expect immediate results."_   It took time for a soul to imprint upon a blank Asauchi, and meditation would only ever be successful when there was something in there to respond to their call.

 

Natural talent, in combination with having been Kisuke's studying partner for so long had turned her just as impatient as him, it seemed.  There were certain obstacles that were insurmountable through sheer force of will and cleverness, and she had forgotten that.  Still, with only a day left until their return to the Academy and little else to do, Kisuke had argued that it couldn't hurt trying. 

 

Perhaps they would have made some sort of progress by now if they hadn't been working together.  The ancient art of Jinzen required complete and utter concentration, after all, so it was likely the constant _"Feel anything yet?"_ questions weren't exactly helping matters.

 

Dodging the pillow she had thrown, Kisuke disengaged his arms from the meditative position and crossed them above his head, pulling on one elbow.  "Don't look so disappointed," he said, letting out a soft groan of pleasure as he worked out the kinks in his limbs.  "It's probably far too early to be seeing any results."

 

"Never thought I'd see the day where you'd be content with the _normal_ pace," Yoruichi said.

 

"Yes, well… that was before I realized what sitting on the floor for two consecutive hours does to your behind," he said, wincing as he slightly readjusted his position.  "We need more pillows."

 

" _Really_?  Your _behind_?"

 

Unfazed by the taunt, Kisuke grinned at her.  "No?  Hindquarters, then?  Derriere?  Posterior?"

 

"Honestly, between you and Kūkaku, sometimes I can't decide whether I'm prudish or lewd," Yoruichi said, unfurling her legs to stretch them out.

 

"Maybe we should just give it a rest?" Kisuke said, looking at the sword on his lap.  "I wouldn't mind actually catching up on some sleep, instead."

 

Yoruichi couldn't deny the idea was awfully tempting; though finals had been hard on all their classmates, Kisuke and Yoruichi had exhausted themselves to the point that Yoruichi had never been happier to find herself back within the four walls of Shihōin castle.  While a full schedule had kept them both busy and interested, even Kisuke had agreed that they had perhaps overdone it a little and should probably not try for a repeat performance this coming semester.  Kisuke in particular had pushed himself even beyond his own admirable tolerance, in between studying and tinkering about with his newly acquired –and still malfunctioning- gigai.

 

 _And he was **still** top of the class, the bastard,_ Yoruichi thought, both secretly proud and mildly irritated at him.  Though she had easily outperformed every single one of her peers in Flash Step classes and hand to hand combat, the best performer in kidō and sword fighting had easily been Kisuke.  Overall higher grades in all their theoretical subjects had pushed him at the top of their class, even if he had only beaten her by four measly points.  Still, coming in second was nothing to scoff at, though she had to admit that if she had lost to anyone other than Kisuke, she would've been foaming at the mouth.       

 

_I changed my mind, we are **so** not ending this._

 

"One more time?" she suggested.  "If it doesn't work, then we just do nothing but veg out for the rest of the day."

 

Kisuke groaned feebly, making a show out of letting his head droop to the side and his shoulders sag in fatigue, but he relented nonetheless.  They both fell back into position, swords placed across their laps, backs straight and eyes closed.

 

Once again, Yoruichi tried to empty her mind of all thoughts, disregarding small distractions like a fly buzzing past her ear, or the way loose strands of hair kept tickling her face in the breeze coming through the open window.  There was nothing else, no-one else in the world, only her and the vessel beneath her hands, a very piece of her soul.

 

 _Speak to me,_ she called out into the void, her voice traveling to the farthest ridges of her mind, trying to establish a connection.  She called again and again, but never received a response, never felt the slightest fraction of life stirring within her Soul Cutter.

 

_It's no use.  I can't feel anything._

 

Sighing, Yoruichi opened her eyes again.  "I give up; you're right, my _behind_ really is starting to cramp—" she began, but the rest of the words faded away on her lips upon sight of Kisuke.  He was sitting in absolute stillness, eyes closed, his expression utterly serene.  She might have thought he was pulling her leg if it weren't for his spiritual pressure: it was now emanating in small, measured pulses, like gentle ripples flowing out of a point of contact in otherwise still waters.

 

It was hard to tell whether he really was meditating or if he was simply asleep; the two states were highly similar in terms of the behavior of one's spiritual pressure.  Moreover, when it came to Kisuke, whose sleeping habits alternated between constant all-nighters and hibernation, it would be easy to confuse a deep sleep with an actual trance.

 

Pushing herself off the pillow, Yoruichi crawled toward Kisuke, coming to a stop when she was kneeling right in front of him.  Upon closer inspection, she could see the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, but he was otherwise as unmoving as a statue.  Yoruichi waved a hand right in front of his face.  "Kisukeeeee…" she said, watching carefully for any signs of a reaction; according to Master Morita, a successful foray into a meditative state should render the practitioner completely unaware of any outside influences, even severe physical pain.

 

Yoruichi decided to test the waters with something tame: she gave his forehead a sharp flick.  There was no reaction on his end, no movement in his facial muscles, but most tellingly, no disturbance in his spiritual pressure.

 

 _He did it.  He **actually** did it, barely one week in,_ she thought, feeling amazed.  Under different circumstances, she might have even felt a little jealous for his rapid progress, but given his love for swordsmanship, Yoruichi wasn't surprised he had become in-tuned with his weapon so quickly; it wasn't unlike her own swift development in hand  to hand combat. 

 

Though she wasn't looking to exact revenge for anything, Yoruichi came to the sudden realization that she now found herself in a position to do anything she wanted to Kisuke without any fear of reprisal.  Then again, it was difficult to get a rise out of him for anything other than severe provocation, not unless he was already feeling poorly.     

 

Grinning, Yoruichi bit down on her lower lip and reached out with both hands now, pinching his cheeks and pulling them out as far as they would go.  When she released her grip, they bounced back with a brief sloshing sound that made her cackle.  _Oh man… The **power**._   She knew that this was going to be a one-time opportunity: after today, Kisuke would undoubtedly learn to be far more careful of when and where he practiced meditation, so she only had this one chance to truly mess around with him to her heart's content.

 

She considered a number of different options, from drawing on his face to giving him a weird shave, but there really only was one thing that would royally piss him off:  _the hair,_ she thought, smirking.  She didn't really know why, but he hated his hair,he had made no secret of that.  Personally, she couldn't see what was so wrong with it.  The color was rare enough to be a head-turner and that wayward little fringe his mother was always trying to tame was actually rather charming in its stubbornness to not cooperate. 

 

Though she knew he couldn't feel it, her touch was tentative as she raked a hand down through his tousled hair, one finger jutting out to graze the dark blond stubble on his cheek.  Come Monday, he would once more be clean-shaven as per Academy rules, but during breaks, he tended to favor a more unkempt look.  For someone with features as gentle as his it shouldn't have worked, but oddly enough, it suited him. 

 

It was when her fingertips were sweeping across his jawline that she realized she had spent the last few minutes poring over his face, rather than pranking him as she'd originally planned.  She drew her hand back at once, inexplicably looking around the empty room in alarm even though she knew full well that they were alone.  Somehow, that knowledge made her uneasy instead of giving her relief. 

 

Turning back toward Kisuke, tension gathering up in her shoulders, Yoruichi sat back on her calves and watched as the breeze swept his hair across his forehead. 

 

Her thoughts suddenly strayed to Kaneko Kotone as she observed him, and in that moment, it wasn't difficult to see why her classmate –and borderline friend- was quickly developing a massive crush on him.  With the exception of the first few, awkward years of puberty, he had always been attractive, that much she couldn't deny.  Early adulthood had erased the roundness of his younger face, replacing it with harsher, sharper angles that were counterbalanced by his softer features: long eyelashes, slim eyebrows and a delicate mouth.  It certainly didn't hurt that he had also grown to be tall and lean. 

 

Though she couldn't know for sure, Yoruichi suspected that if it weren't for his eccentricities, he would have enjoyed far more popularity than he currently did.  Most of the girls who appeared to have grown an interest in him so far –and they weren't few- certainly seemed discouraged or overwhelmed when they actually interacted with him and became acquainted with all his little quirks.  While she hadn't admitted it to herself thus far, Yoruichi had always taken an odd, perverse pleasure in that fact. 

 

Yoruichi flashed back to a conversation she'd had with Kotone nearly a month ago, when her classmate had visibly gathered up the courage to ask if there was anything between her and Kisuke.  Yoruichi had immediately answered 'No' without a second's thought, but right now, she wondered whether Kotone, in her semi-drunken state, had been able to read the slight edge of hysteria in her voice, if she had heard the truth beneath the swift, fake reassurances.  It hadn't exactly been an unexpected question: her relationship to Kisuke had been brought up before, both by simply curious or actually interested parties, and it had never elicited much of a reaction from her in the past.  But when Kotone had asked, Yoruichi had found herself making excuses, much like she had when Kūkaku had merely hinted at an attraction.  And Yoruichi hadn't been able to fully understand her own reaction until just now.

 

 _Because they are the kind of women Kisuke could potentially be interested in._      

 

Beautiful, talented, but most importantly, women who shared his curiosity about the world, who wouldn't be thrown by his dazzling intellect, but were actually equipped to keep up with him.  In all honesty, she knew that Kūkaku had truly only meant to tease her, but Kotone was sincere in her affections.  It made Yoruichi worry that her flippant comment just a week ago when she had more or less revealed as much to Kisuke had been in bad taste.  **_Why_** _did I say it?  What was I even thinking?  I—_ It made her wonder whether he'd given it any weight.  But mostly, it made her uneasy to discover that she wasn't comfortable with the possibility that he might reciprocate.

 

Sighing, Yoruichi leaned forward, hands on her knees, bringing her face close enough to Kisuke's that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin.  _All I wanted was to give him a ridiculous hair-do, how did this even…?_   It figured that she would be having a crisis on multiple levels, including a crisis of conscience and a salvo of feelings she didn't know what to do with, while he sat right across her, completely unaware of it all and perfectly sanguine.

 

"She keeps bouncing her leg under the desk when she's restless, you know," she said.  "It's _very_ annoying.  And she chews really, _really_ loudly.  Just saying."

 

 _There._   With any luck, his subconscious would do the rest of the work and plant that information somewhere deep within his psyche.

 

"Also…" she said, leaning in closer to whisper into his ear.  "I actually kind of like your hair."

 

Pulling back, she stared at his tranquil face, her fingertips coming to rest on his lips.  Part of her felt guilty for taking advantage of his current incapacitation, but she reasoned with the opposing voice in her head, insisting that she only meant to look, that she would never cross a line.  It hadn't occurred to her that perhaps she already had.

 

Lost as she was in a mental battle between what was morally right and wrong, she didn't hear the door open behind her until it was too late.  Her impeccable reflexes were of little help; she would have to have moved with the speed of light to back up far enough to avoid suspicion, and even so, Urahara Kaede was no fool: as she stood underneath the threshold, taking in the scene of Yoruichi scrambling away from her son, the expression on her face was a mixture of shock and resignation.

 

"I didn't—!" Yoruichi began, feeling her skin erupt into flames.  It was bad enough that they had been caught in the same room together, but she suspected that mattered little in light of the compromising position they had been found in.  Yoruichi hadn't forgotten that it was Kisuke's mother who had asked him to keep his distance all those years ago, and she cursed herself for allowing her guard to slip after only six months away from the Shihōin estate, for forgetting that there was no privacy to be found anywhere within its walls.  _All those years of being careful and now…_

 

"I— We were practicing— I was just checking to see— I think he's meditating!"

 

Kaede's eyes swept over to Kisuke.  It was clear as day that Yoruichi's half-baked excuses hadn't convinced her, but there was no denying that she had partly spoken the truth.  "Oh," was all Kaede said, stepping into the apartment.

 

Yoruichi considered trying to patch up her mess, but every cell in her body was telling her to run before she could make things worse.  This time, she heeded its advice.  Standing up on her feet, she slipped her tantō back into its sheath clumsily.  "I'll take my leave," she said, giving Kisuke's mother a brisk bow and all but sprinting for the door.

 

"Yoruichi."

 

Yoruichi stopped on her tracks just as she had reached the corridor, surprise motivating her far more than any deeply ingrained sense of etiquette.  In one hundred and ten years of knowing her, Urahara Kaede had _never_ addressed her as anything other than _Princess_.  Looking over her shoulder, not even bothering to hide her disbelief, Yoruichi turned to look at Kisuke's mother.

 

"You are always welcome in our home," Kaede said, giving her a gentle, if a little poignant smile.  "By the both of us."

 

Despite her complete and utter embarrassment, Yoruichi forced herself to turn around fully and give Kisuke's mother a proper bow.  "Thank you."

 

"Take care, dear."

 

All the warmth and kindness in the woman's voice notwithstanding, Yoruichi bolted away to her quarters, relieved that she had escaped from the awkward exchange relatively unscathed.  She hoped that would also be the case for Kisuke once he came to.

 

It was only when she was safely behind the walls of her own room that Yoruichi was able to fully appreciate Kaede's words and feel a little remorseful that she had made a run for it so abruptly. 

 

That was also when she realized that the use of her given name hadn't been the only word she had heard for the first time from Kisuke's mother: since the day they had moved to the castle, Yoruichi didn't think she had once heard either son or mother refer to their apartment as _home_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It took him a while to realize he wasn't dreaming.

 

From the moment he had gained consciousness, he had assumed he must've been lingering in a state of semi-wakefulness, stuck in between reality and a dream.  And yet he was missing something, the tell-tale sign of any dream or nightmare: the eerie sensation that something was not right.  His mind was focused, his awareness of the situation perfectly clear, and yet that characteristic feeling was nowhere to be found.

 

In fact, nothing was.  There was only darkness.

 

Swallowing hard, Kisuke raised a hand to his face and found, to his shock, that his eyes were already open.  He could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest as his heart rate picked up and his breathing intensified, but he couldn't even hear the sound of his own respiration.  He couldn't hear _anything_. 

 

In reflex, he took a step backwards, but as he felt his leg extend back toward absolute darkness, he was confronted with a terrifying thought: what if there was nothing there?  What if he was about to fall through to a bottomless, dark void and just kept falling and falling with no end in sight?  The mere thought was enough to make his knees give out completely.  That one second of free-fall felt like an eternity, his entire body stiffening as it prepared itself for the worst, but before he could give in to utter despair, his back met with hard resistance, forcing him to expel the breath that had been trapped in his lungs. 

 

Without a second's hesitation, he reached down toward the ground, eager for the comfort of touching anything but empty air.  He didn't know what he had expected to find; earthy ground perhaps, or even a tiled floor, but it wasn't what his hands were actually touching.

 

 _Nothing._ _There's nothing there.  Just the resistance of some sort of barrier._       

 

Kisuke had no idea how long he stayed that way, pleading at himself to wake up already, to end the torture, but his situation did not change one iota.  The darkness didn't dim, sound did not return, and the atmosphere remained as still as ever, not a cool breeze or heat wave coming his way.  Countless times he tried to reach out with his spiritual pressure, searching for something, grasping at the emptiness for _anything_ , but to no avail.

 

 _There is nothing but me here.  Not a trace of— Nothing._  

 

Though intellectually, he understood that there must be some sort of way out, he was so terrified of moving around in the darkness, in uncharted territory, that he remained still for a long time, his breathing alternating between frantic and forcibly measured.  Eventually, he came to the inevitable conclusion that staying rooted on the spot was not going to solve his predicament; there was no help on the way, no discernible entities in the vicinity: he had to move.

 

Slowly and with extreme care, Kisuke got back up on his feet.  Hands held out in front of him, he began to take very small steps forward, all the while keeping his senses on alert for any signs of spiritual matter that didn't belong to him.  When moving in absolute blackness it was almost impossible to tell time; he didn't know how long it took for his legs to stop shaking with every step he took, but eventually, he began to move with more ease, despite the knowledge that he currently had no sense of direction whatsoever.

 

He began to keep a rudimentary count of time, as a means to try and gauge the distance he was travelling, resetting his mental counter at the end of every minute.  _Fifty eight, fifty nine… Seventeen minutes._ Counting the seconds one by one was both the best and worst idea he had had.  On the one hand, it gave him something to hold on to, something to keep his mind focused when he couldn't understand what was happening.  On the other hand, with every passing minute that brought no change in his environment, his anguish began to grow.  Once or twice, he considered calling out, but it was no use; if he couldn't hear his own voice, no sound would ever carry through the void.

 

_Fifty eight, fifty nine… one hundred and eighty one._

 

Three hours and still no change.

 

 _Enough._ _Enough of this,_ Kisuke thought as came to a stop and closed his eyes, his hopelessness morphing into frustration.  _I am getting myself out of this hellhole **this** instant.  Think, **think.**   What were you doing before you woke up here?_

 

Though his reasoning was intact, his memory was sluggish.  There were only flickers of moments, little fragments of color and sound that didn't quite make up a coherent whole.  A breeze coming through an open window, the sound of laughter, the sensation of sinking down upon soft pillows and a woman's mouth – _Yoruichi?-_ opening and closing soundlessly.  She was trying to tell him something, but he couldn't hear her or read her lips, a sudden shrillness, a whistling sound permeating his head, as though his ears were recovering from the blast of an explosion.

 

_Something… 'no'… something?_

 

A glass of cold water on the table, beads of condensation trickling down towards the wood, the feel of something polished underneath his fingertips and her words, once again… _Something… 'no'… Wait, not 'no,' but 'more'?_  If only the whistling in his ears would stop; he could almost make out her words, her voice muffled and muted as though he were underwater.  The sun glinting off steel, the wind making her hair dance. 

 

"… more ti…?"

 

_Steel?_

 

In his mind's eye, his fingertips swept over the gleaming surface underneath his hands, the whistling in his head intensifying. 

 

"One more time?"

 

_One more time?  For what?_

 

The surface was entirely smooth, but for a gentle ridge running down its length.  It was cold to the touch.  Steel.  _His_ steel. 

 

With a sharp intake of breath, Kisuke opened his eyes again, finally understanding. 

 

All at once, his senses were assaulted with color and sound; he could see, he was no longer navigating in darkness, and he could hear the sound of his own haggard breath.  His hands flew up to his throat, relishing in the feel of the vibrations that came with every gasp, his ears rejoicing at the return of sound. 

 

When he had managed to calm himself, he took a moment to finally look upon his surroundings, his eyes growing round.  _Is this…?  Have I reached my inner world?_

 

Grateful though he was for the change in scenery, he couldn't exactly claim that his circumstances were much better than they had been before.  The darkness hadn't disappeared entirely; in fact, it seemed to spread out from the small plot of earth he was standing upon.  Kisuke looked down, his sandaled foot sweeping over the ground.  There was a dark grey, flaky substance covering its surface and beneath it, he could see the earth was deeply cracked, parched for water.  He knelt down, balancing on the pads of his feet without letting his knees touch the ground, reaching with his hand instead.  The grey substance seemed to lose its structure once he rubbed it between thumb and forefinger, dissolving into powder that stained his fingertips.  _Ashes?_

 

Standing back up, Kisuke turned to look over his shoulder.  With a start, he saw that there was a short, steep incline right behind him, leading up to a large, barren, ancient-looing tree.  The perimeter of its trunk suggested an age well into quadruple digits, its thick, twisting roots cradling the entire hill.  It should have been impossible for him to be able to tell what sort of tree it was with its branches bare and lifeless, but he intuitively knew that he could only be staring up at a maple. 

 

Mouth slightly agape, Kisuke began to climb the steep hill, holding onto the powerful roots to aid his ascent.  The top of the hill was dominated by the maple's large trunk.  Kisuke placed a hand upon the dry bark, looking up toward the empty branches.  Despite its sorry state, the mere sight of it was more than enough to inject some tranquility in his heart, to somewhat quell his growing alarm of this strange, hostile space.  It might have been its imagination, but the bark seemed to turn a little healthier upon its touch, feeding off his own growing inner peace.

 

Whether his observation was valid or not, he had no time to mull it over; it wasn't just the tree that seemed to have reacted to the shift in his heart: for the first time since he'd entered this place, he could now finally detect another presence. 

 

Whenever he had tried to picture his first meeting with the spirit residing within his weapon, Kisuke had always assumed it would be a joyous occasion.  Perhaps a little strange, full of awkward silences and cautious distance, but nevertheless positive, not unlike the raw, sweet excitement of trying to tame and befriend a stray animal.  There was something, however, in the sudden manifestation of foreign spiritual pressure that filled him with a sense of alarm.  He couldn't tell why, exactly, but he knew instinctively that he did _not_ want to alert the presence that it had been detected.

 

Letting his hand drop gently, Kisuke willed his drumming heart to calm itself, all the while wondering if the presence could sense his inner turmoil.  He turned around casually, starting his descent toward the ground.  He could feel it, he could sense its eyes following his every move, but it refused to show itself and he couldn't tell which direction the sensation was coming from, either.  Looking around once more, Kisuke could see that the darkness spread out from every single direction off the plot of land.  It was as though he were smack in the middle of a black sea, standing upon a small, isolated island holding nothing but a few square meters of cracked earth and a dry, barren tree. 

 

 _Is it hiding itself out there?_          

 

Taking calm, measured steps, Kisuke began to make his way toward the edge.  Though part of him dreaded returning to the darkness, he was determined not to succumb to fear once more, but face it head-on instead.  This was _his_ world, after all.  _His_ mind, _his_ Soul Cutter spirit.  What was there to be afraid of?

 

As he walked on, acting braver than her truly felt, Kisuke was surprised to find that the island's surface was far larger than he'd originally thought.  Perhaps it was the lack of any distinctive landmarks in the distance that had made it appear small, but whereas he'd expected to reach the edge in only a few seconds, he had been walking for at least three minutes and making no progress.  He pressed on, picking up his pace, but it soon became clear that he was no closer to reaching the edge than he had been a few minutes ago.  Frustrated, he looked over his shoulder to see just how far he'd travelled, only to find himself standing right by the hillside, the maple tree looming over him.

 

 ** _What_** _?_   _How can—?  I've been walking and walking for—_

 

His entire body taut with tension, Kisuke glanced toward the darkness once more, then back at the tree.  Somewhere out there, he felt a ripple of something go through the presence's essence; he could have sworn it felt like eagerness, like the feeling of a hunter closing in on its prey. 

 

 _This isn't how it's supposed to— Does **everyone** go through this?  Having to prove themselves to their own Soul Cutter so early?  _ It was a well-known fact that to achieve each state of release a certain amount of trust needed to be established, but no-one had ever before mentioned that such trials could begin long before he had even _met_ the spirit in question.

 

Jaw set, Kisuke made for the edge of the island once more, breaking into a run. 

 

_I know you're out there.  I **know** it.  _

 

It was like trying to swim against a powerful current; no matter how hard he ran, the distance never decreased, he never reached the edge.  Coming to a halt, panting, Kisuke felt his annoyance at the spirit grow into rage.  "Show yourself!" he called out.  "I'm done playing your games."

 

He felt it before he saw it.  Even without turning around, he could tell that it was standing behind him, having heeded his order.  But when he turned toward the tree again, he wasn't prepared for the sight he was greeted with; he wouldn't have been prepared in a million years.

 

 _It_ was a woman.  She was facing the tree, so he wasn't able to make out her features, but there was no mistaking the gentle flare of womanly curves underneath the clothing.  He might have thought she made for a stunning picture, clad as she was in her crimson hikizuri, the long sweep of loose, ink black hair reaching down her waist, but her appearance had instead sent a chill down his spine.  He had seen that hikizuri before, would have recognized the cut of those shoulders from within a crowd of thousands.    

 

 _It… it can't be.  She can't—_ _Am I **actually** dreaming?  **How**? How could…?_

"Yoruichi…?"

 

The figure moved faster than he thought was possible, faster than his eyes could have ever followed.  Even as he felt it, the sharp stab of pain, the afterimage of her standing underneath the tree lingered on.  Something wet and warm trickled down his mouth, and right at the center of his visual field, he saw the gleam of crimson and dark silver.  Slowly, he reached up – _Why are my fingers shaking?-_ palm closing around the blade jutting out of his chest.  _Odd.  How did this get here?_   His vision blurred, the tree growing out of focus – _The woman… Where did she…?  I… She was right there-_ an odd, plunging sensation in his stomach as his hand dropped down.

 

Something was behind him, a hard, unmoving surface.  A hand crawled up his neck, slithering to his forehead, pulling his head backwards and it was _it_ , _her_ , the presence, and it was all he could do to hold on to consciousness as the face stared down at him – _Not Yoruichi, not Yoruichi, notyoruichinot-_ sickly pale skin, features semi-shrouded by a thick sweep of hair, hair as black as the monochromatic eyes that were trained on him.

 

"Not quite," she said, and the last thing he felt before oblivion was the sting of sharp fingernails digging into his scalp.

 

 

**SEPTEMBER 29 TH, 130 B.H.I., SHIHŌIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

It felt like coming up for air a split second before drowning.

 

Kisuke gasped, his entire body going into a state of near shock as the sight of his apartment and reality came crashing into him.  In a horrifying moment of déjà vu, his back collided with something as he crawled backwards on the floor, a hand that didn't belong to him reaching out for his forehead.  He was milliseconds away from going into full-blown panic, when a gentle wave of spiritual pressure enveloped him.

 

"Shhhh… It's okay; breathe.  The first time is always difficult."

 

 **_Mom_ ** _.  I… I…_

 

He closed his eyes, sinking back against her soft body, letting her hand stroke his hair as he tried to catch his breath.  "When did you…?  How…?" he said, his voice small and sounding as though it belonged to someone far younger.

 

"I saw Yoruichi on my way in," his mother said, her other arm circling around his chest to hold him tight against her.  "She explained everything."

 

Kisuke didn't move for a long time, not caring that he was far too old to be held like that by his mother, to allow her to soothe him like she did when he was a child.  He reveled in the warmth of her embrace, allowing it to fill him up and chase away every vestige of fear that clung into the deepest crooks of his soul.  Little by little, his mother slackened her tight hold on him, until his breathing had evened out and his skin had stopped breaking out in cold sweat.

 

"It only took you a week?" she said after a long silence, the pride in her voice unmistakable.

 

Kisuke opened his eyes, turning to look at her as he sat upright.  "It wasn't… I'm not even sure I—"

 

"It won't be perfect from the get-go," his mother said, smiling at him.  "But now you know how.  It will be easier to enter and return next time."

 

_Next time._

 

She hesitated, and Kisuke knew what she was about to ask.  Both a Soul Reaper's weapon and inner world were considered deeply personal territory; it was terrible etiquette to ever touch another's sword outside of combat, or prod into either matter unless the wielders themselves volunteered the information, but she was clearly very curious.

 

"I always thought it would be a mess," she said, grinning.  "Just… a labyrinth only you would be able to make sense of, filled to the brim with information, like a chaotic library of things and knowledge.  Was I right?"

 

Kisuke stared into her grey eyes, so like his own, so filled with love, with pride, with eagerness.  It was truly like her to see only the best in him, the beauty.  He had grown so used to her hope, her optimism, he had allowed himself to be blindsided by a truth he had always feared, yet always known deep down:

 

 _Nothing._ _There is **nothing** inside me but a dark, bottomless pit and a dry old barren tree.  And **it** … and **she** … she is…_

 

Kisuke forced a smile on his face, wondering if it was possible to actually drown from fear and shame and guilt.

 

"Aren't you always?"

 

 

* * *

 

 

**OCTOBER 13 TH, 130 B.H.I., OUTSIDE THE 5TH DISTRICT, SOUTHEAST RUKONGAI**

 

 

"Who will call it?"

 

Kisuke extended one hand amiably toward his opponent.  "Ladies first."

 

Barely able to contain her eye-roll, Yoruichi crossed her arms before her chest, her yellow armband –matching his own green one- reading _Captain_ gleaming in the sunlight.  "Tails," she said.

 

Instructor Kobayashi flipped the coin in her hand, all seventeen pairs of eyes watching it arc gracefully in the air before landing in her open palm.  "Tails it is."

 

"We pick offense," Yoruichi said, her eyes boring straight into Kisuke's, her lips upturned.

 

_What a shocker._

 

"All right then," said Instructor Kobayashi, pocketing the coin.  "Yellow team on offense, green team on defense.  You have fifteen minutes to formulate a strategy, then we begin."

 

Kisuke held Yoruichi's gaze for a moment, meeting the challenging look in her eyes with one of his own.  Turning around, he returned to his team as Yoruichi approached hers, the clock already ticking away.

 

The field they had relocated to for today's class was optimal for a game of _Capture the Flag_.  The large, open plain gave plenty of room for individual skirmishes, and there were enough trees surrounding the area to act as hiding spots.  Given the clear disadvantage a defense team faced in such a locale, all offensive spells had been banned for today, allowing the use of protective Bakudō only.  Hand-to-hand combat as well as swordfighting was free game, however, which meant that if he wanted to avoid complete and utter chaos in the open field, he had to give his team explicit instructions.

 

As he walked back toward his classmates, Kisuke began to formulate a plan based on his team's strengths and weaknesses.  Yoshida and Kaneko were good all-around fighters, so he would place them last in whichever positions needed the most support.  Ueno was an abysmal kidō user and only a moderately good fighter, but she was incredibly fast, third best in class after Yoruichi and himself.  _Got my sprinter._   Harada and Ikeda were both acceptable in terms of kidō usage, but where they truly shined was in their ability to take a beating: excellent stamina.  Which left Matsuda and Hasegawa, both fair kidō users.  Matsuda in particular was also great with a sword.

 

 _All right, let's do this_.

 

"Okay, so how do we take out Lady Yoruichi?" Ikeda spluttered the second Kisuke approached his team, all of them wearing green armbands to match his.

 

"She's gotta be the one who will go for the flag, right?" Matsuda weighed in.

 

"Flash Steps aren't allowed," Kaneko said, rolling her eyes.  "Otherwise there wouldn't be a point to this exercise; the best Flash Step practitioner would simply swoop in and capture the flag, end of story."

 

"She's still the fastest even without Flash Steps," Yoshida said.

 

Before more voices could join the argument, Kisuke held up both hands.  "Hi.  May I speak?" he said.  His team fell silent at once, now waiting for his input.  "Excellent.  Yoshida is right, of course," Kisuke said.  "Don't discount Yoruichi just because Flash Steps can't be used.  That having been said, I think she knows everyone expects her to go for the flag."

 

"You think she'll use herself as a diversion and have someone else go for it?" Kaneko asked.

 

"I believe that's what she expects _me_ to think," Kisuke said, chuckling.  "And she'll do it, too, but she's the one who will go for the flag in the end, make no mistake."  Yoruichi was a team player, alright, but Kisuke knew all too well that she not only wanted to win, she wanted to win against _him_ in particular.  "So here's the plan…"

 

Though everyone received their respective assignments quickly enough, Kisuke kept the group gathered, insisting that they put on the act of pretending to argue till they ran out of time.  It would benefit them for the other team to believe there had been last minute objections to his ideas, and he had accounted for that in the individual instructions he'd given out.

 

Once Instructor Kobayashi announced that the fifteen minutes were over, Yoruichi's team went into hiding, while Kisuke's team was asked to prepare. 

 

"It's a solid plan," Kaneko said as they moved toward the field.  "Well thought-out and covering many contingencies.  I'll be very surprised if we lose this."

 

"Optimism?  From you?  Now _there's_ something you don't see every day," Kisuke teased her, chuckling as he took his position as flag defender.  "I'll take that as a compliment."

 

"You should," Kaneko said, coming to a stop before him, giving him a gentle, enigmatic smile.  As Instructor Kobayashi was about to blow the whistle, she hurried over to her position.

 

When engaged in strategy, it was easy to forget all about the latest developments, such as the worrying attitude of his Soul Cutter whom he'd yet to try and contact again.  With his advantageous position right in the middle of the field, Kisuke was able to observe his plan of action unfold, watching closely as certain strategies played out in full, while others, falling within his estimates, failed somewhere along the way. 

 

It had been worth it, after all, to have Ueno act as a messenger even though it had cost them an active member. With her zooming across the field swiftly to carry his orders, Kisuke was able to update his instructions to his teammates according to the situation at hand. 

 

The most pleasant surprise of the day was that Yoruichi turned out to be a worthy adversary in terms of strategy.  For all her insistence that she loathed games like shōgi and go as she felt had no aptitude for them, she was able to counter most of his moves effectively.  Though he knew part of her success lied in her deep knowledge of his thought process, it was counterbalanced by his own insight into the inner workings of her head.  In the end, the fact that she was able to translate her own quick thinking and adaptability into flexibility for her entire team was very impressive, not to mention welcome; he would have hated playing against an easy target, and once again, Yoruichi had proven she was anything but.

 

With fewer than three minutes to go until time was up and no definite winner, Kisuke quickly took stock of the current situation in the battlefield. The opposing team's numbers had dwindled down to two members: Yoruichi herself and Kojima Ryō.  On his side, there were two others still active aside from himself: Ueno and Yoshida.  With the numbers in his favor and time running out, Kisuke decided it was time to throw caution to the wind.

 

Ueno, who was half the size of Kojima, would be no match for him, but Yoshida stood a chance to buy him some time.  "Ueno, cover the flag!" Kisuke called at her.  "Yoshida, on Kojima!"

 

His instructions broadcast his intentions to the opposing team as well, but Kisuke didn't mind; he had no intention of hiding the fact that he was going to take Yoruichi head-on, and judging by the look in her eyes and the smirk on her face, she was tired of the cat and mouse game, itching for an open confrontation.

  

Kisuke sprinted straight at her, his smirk matching her own.  He was far too familiar with her moves, already knowing by the twist of her waist and the slight bend of her knee that she was aiming for a kick to his ribcage, but her inimitable speed was always a cause for alarm.  Even after he'd read her move, he only barely dodged it in time.  There was little time left as it was, but Kisuke realized that the more he prolonged the fight, the greater her chances of victory; he had to end this as soon as possible.

 

As Yoruichi pulled back, readying for a follow-up attack, Kisuke dropped to the ground, moving in for a sweep.  She leapt backwards to dodge, her focus shifting to her own footing instead of where it should have been: at the symbol now drawn on the ground by the leg he had only pretended to attack her with.

 

Half a second too late, Yoruichi seemed to grasp what had just happened.  It was a common Bakudō spell, one he could easily cast with no need for an incantation, but the symbol was usually drawn by the hand in mid-air.  Her eyes widened as they met his, and Kisuke was now grinning broadly at her, his form engulfed with throbbing with red energy.

 

"Bakudō number nine, Geki!" he called, holding out his palms before him, pointed straight at Yoruichi.

 

 _Game over._  

 

A successful Geki spell meant instant paralysis, and with Yoruichi out of the game, Kojima would be easily brought down with three of them working together.  Even if they ran out of time, it was a clear victory for his team, as they would be the ones left with three members still active, as opposed to a single one.

 

The jet of red energy flew straight at Yoruichi.  It should have paralyzed her on the spot, expression of utter surprise and all, but as it enveloped her body, it seemed to weaken and fizzle out instead, leaving Kisuke as the one frozen in shock, hands still held out.

 

_……What?  What the Hell…?_

Yoruichi's face registered only a split second of astonishment, but she didn't let her chance go to waste.  Sidestepping Kisuke who –still in a daze- made an only perfunctory attempt to stop her, she sped on toward Ueno, her face set in determination.  The fight was over before it even began, and the six disqualified members of Yoruichi's team rose together in screams of joy as she raised the flag above her head, victorious.

 

Kisuke was still having difficulty accepting what had happened even minutes later, when Instructor Kobayashi urged him to congratulate Yoruichi before the end of class.  "I am disappointed, Urahara.  I would have expected you to accept defeat gracefully, as I'm certain your opponent would have done were she in your position," she said, misreading the confusion in his eyes as reluctance.

 

Kisuke decided not to draw the Instructor's attention to the fact that his _opponent_ was leading her team in a victory dance right behind her unsuspecting back. 

 

 _It was a **perfect** spell.  I **know** it was, _he thought, still at war with himself over whether he had somehow messed up the rune, or perhaps erred in skipping the incantation.  But he knew the limits of his own powers very well, and they extended far beyond a meager level eight Bakudō, that was for certain.  More to the point, this wasn't the first time he had cast the spell by skipping the incantation.    

 

Sighing, he held his hand out for Yoruichi to shake.  "Congratulations," he said, the smile not quite making it to his eyes.

 

Yoruichi took his hand, looking smug.  "That's what you get for going easyon me.  You thought I wasn't going to take advantage?" she said.  "Honestly, what _was_ that?  I know you're way better than this."

 

 _So do I,_ Kisuke thought to himself, starting to fear that perhaps his troubles with his Soul Cutter spirit had only been the beginning.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It was nearing a month now, since he'd first and last made contact.  He didn't know what terrified him the most, the prospect of facing the darkness again, or facing _her_. 

 

Whichever one it was, Kisuke had resolved to swallow his fear in the face of his latest failures with kidō.  The outdoors class debacle had only been the first of a series of continuous mishaps, both within and outside the classroom, and he was certain that the underlying factor was _her_.

 

This time, when he opened his eyes, his feet were already standing on firm ground, his sight and hearing intact.  _How depressing,_ he thought, _That the sight of this miniscule wasteland should make me feel relief._

 

The tree loomed tall and barren still, and like his first journey into his inner world, the spirit was conspicuously absent, masking her presence.  He wondered, would an order work this time?  Would she only consent to appear on command?

 

Swallowing hard, Kisuke opened his trembling mouth.  "Show yourself," he said, his voice wavering.  He realized, a little too late, that perhaps allowing hesitation to color his voice when addressing her wasn't the best strategy. 

 

His suspicion was confirmed but a second later, when he only had time to see a red and black blur before he was on the ground, a pool of blood forming around his middle.

 

 

**NOVEMBER 2 ND, 130 B.H.I., SPIRITUAL ARTS ACADEMY, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

****

Though he wasn't in quite the same state of shock upon his second return from his inner world, once he had calmed himself, Kisuke yearned for the gentle touch of a comforting presence that would help anchor him back to reality.

 

 _Is this what it's come down to,_ he thought, running a hand through his hair as he slumped against the wall in his dorm.  _I can't even face my own inner world without crying for mommy?_

 

Groaning, he opened his eyes, staring angrily at a blank spot on the wall right above the bookcase.  He would never dare share this with anyone, but he was certain, _entirely_ convinced, that what was happening every time he attempted meditation was not normal.  Or at the very least extremely rare.  Soul Cutter spirits were known to be unpredictable at times, but this went beyond anything he had ever read in any tome on the subject.

 

How was he ever supposed to develop a relationship with his weapon if he couldn't even exit his inner world by volition?

 

Frustrated and eager to still the shaking of his limbs, Kisuke decided to shift his attention to something that was guaranteed to take his mind off his current predicament; the gigai hidden in his trunk had proven to be an excellent distraction so far.

 

The world always seemed simpler when trying to solve a tangible problem, Kisuke thought as he pored over the artificial nerve network, the manufactured muscles, trying to find the flaw in the system that kept it from functioning properly.  Little by little, he had managed to home in on individual problem areas, attempting to patch them up with various degree of success.  About 70% of his work consisted of research, which wasn't always fruitful, as instructional manuals on synthetic bodies weren't exactly common. 

 

More than once, he'd had to rely on his own knowledge of the basic inner workings of a machine.  It wasn't always applicable, as gigai were easily the most complex machines he had ever laid eyes upon, but certain basic principles of machinery were inescapable, even for an invention as advanced as this.

 

For example, no machine could ever function properly without a stable power source.  Take that out, and everything would collapse like a house of cards.  It was an inescapable flaw of all non-self-sustainable systems, but one that was easily solved in the engineering world.

 

The true question was, what happened when the inherent system flaw had a life all of its own?  

 

 

* * *

 

 

**NOVEMBER 17 TH, 130 B.H.I., 3RD DISCTRICT, NORTHWEST RUKONGAI**

 

 

Over the rim of the fanned out cards, a pair of green eyes stared at her with intensity.  Yoruichi returned the stare unflinchingly.

 

_Say it.  SAY it…_

 

The green eyes narrowed, black brows furrowing as the silence stretched on.  Kaien took a deep breath in, squaring his shoulders.  "Koi-koi," he said.

 

_YES!_

 

Cackling, Yoruichi threw her hand on the tatami mat.  "Ame-Shikō!" she said, watching in glee as his face fell upon sight of her cards.

 

" _Again_ with the bloody Rainman?" Kaien said, slamming his cards down on the mat.  "Okay, that's three times in a row now; this can't be a coincidence," he said, eyeing her sleeves suspiciously.

 

To prove there was nothing hidden within, Yoruichi pulled the sleeves of her kimono up to her elbows ostentatiously, eyeing Kaien with her best pitying gaze as she did so.  "My, my, what a sore _lewzer_.  As if I'd need to resort to cheap tricks to beat the likes of you," she said.

 

"Okay, back me up here; you'd _tell_ me if—" Kaien began, turning to his siblings for support, but came to a stop when he saw that neither Kūkaku nor Ganju were in a position to be of any help.

 

Slumped up against a small mound of pillows, Kūkaku slept deeply, her left hand hanging slack around the nozzle of a sake bottle, her right hand entwined in Ganju's hair as he slumbered with his head laid across her lap. 

 

Yoruichi's eyes shifted from the sleeping pair over to the clock on the wall of the living room: it read 9:37 p.m.  "Oh, _shoot_ ," she said, hurrying up on her feet.  "I gotta go; the Academy gates close at ten o' clock sharp." 

 

"I'll walk you out," Kaien said, following suit.

 

"Such a _gentleman_!" Yoruichi said in a breathless voice, entwining her fingers and resting her cheek against the back of her joined hands.

 

Kaien chuckled at the well-intended mockery, slipping his hands into the pockets of his hakama as he walked her to the door.  It was a simple, very common gesture among men, but something about the way his shoulders moved and the slight slump of his back reminded Yoruichi of Kisuke.

 

Not for the first time, Yoruichi marveled at the similarities that existed between the two men, despite their highly different natures. 

 

Whereas Kaien was the kind of person who would be the life of the party in an outing with friends, telling jokes and genuinely trying to make everyone feel at ease, Kisuke would treat such an occasion as a social experiment, adopting a similar façade only to steer the conversation where it interested him, mentally collecting reactions and behaviors the way other people collected art: with the intent of analyzing and appreciating it at a later date. 

 

And yet there was no denying the ways in which the two were alike: their sense of humor; their unfaltering, fierce protectiveness for those they cared about; their passion; their disdain in the face of arrogance; their astounding cleverness.       

 

 _So why_ , Yoruichi wondered, watching the moonlight fall across Kaien's handsome features as they walked out into the empty streets.  _Do I never catch myself thinking of Kaien whenever my mind wanders off?_

 

Her parents couldn't have made a better match for her if they'd tried; Kaien was kind, intelligent, good-looking and rapidly becoming a valued friend.  He met every expectation across the board, even those that were non-negotiable terms mandated by her own family: great social standing and a bloodline that had gone uninterrupted for millennia.     

 

"Next time, I am only playing you in front of witnesses," Kaien said as they came to a stop by the District gates.  "Goodnight, Yoruichi," he said, flashing her a smile.

 

 _Even his smile is beautiful,_ she thought.  _Not a lopsided smirk; his eyes are bright and inviting, not guarded and at times indecipherable; he is honest and open, not a compulsive liar who resorts to passive-aggressive little remarks when forced to tell the truth; a person who cares about justice, but not an iconoclast with massive trust issues who thinks only **he** knows what is best._

 

He was perfect.

 

Jaw set, Yoruichi urged her body to close the distance before her mind had time to catch on to what was happening.  Her hands slipped up to cup his face, and she saw his eyes widen just before she closed her own, pressing her lips against his.

 

He was… so, _so_ wrong.

 

She had no idea what she was supposed to be feeling when having her first kiss; her pirate novels weren't exactly heavy on the romance, and the only time she could remember discussing anything of the sort, it was when her school friend, Ami, had recounted her first date with Kisuke's roommate Fujita, her cheeks aflame with excitement.  To Yoruichi's disappointment, there was nothing in Ami's narration of her experience that matched the current situation: all Yoruichi could feel was a mild impatience, wondering when she was supposed to break the the clumsy fit of her mouth against Kaien's.  Judging by the way he had gone completely rigid beneath her touch, he wasn't exactly enjoying himself, either.

 

Yoruichi pulled away, part of her already regretting her actions, but a greater, far more significant side of her immensely relieved.  "So… um…" she began, hands fidgeting.  "That was… _awkward_ , ri—?"    

 

"IHAVEAGIRLFRIEND."

 

Yoruichi's eyebrows arched sky-high, her eyes widening as she took in Kaien.  The poor boy looked mortified, everything in his body language telling her that the experience had likely been one of the most uncomfortable ones in his entire life.  Just as she was about to apologize for putting him on the spot, his words slowly sank in and she found herself growing furious instead.

 

"And it didn't occur to you to mention that at some point?" she growled at him.

 

Kaien blinked at her.  "Are you… jealous?  'Cause you _just_ said—"

 

 _Ugh, the GALL!_   "No I'm not _jealous,_ I just don't appreciate being complicit in you cheating on her!" Yoruichi said, arms folded against her chest.  Honestly, were all men so completely oblivious?

 

"I didn't know you were gonna— _You_ kissed _me_!"

 

Though a retort was ready on her lips, the result of chronic practice in arguments with her mother, Yoruichi held her tongue, understanding that she was the one in the wrong here.  She hadn't given him any time to react, and she couldn't exactly expect him to have confided a relationship in her when she would never think of doing the same to him.  Their betrothal was an imposition in both their lives, after all, and though they had never openly discussed it, it always hung in the space between them, an uncomfortable truth they had tried to keep locked away, unseen, for far too many years.

 

Still, with adulthood looming closer, when she would undoubtedly be forced to make the arrangement official, as well as the arrival of highly inconvenient feelings for the most inconvenient person imaginable, she'd felt the need to take drastic action.  She'd had to know whether she could ever see herself entering a romantic relationship with Kaien.

 

"You're right, I… I shouldn't have ambushed you like that," she said.  "Sorry."

 

The tautness in Kaien's face and body relaxed, giving way to a sympathetic expression.  "It's all right," he said, folding his hands behind his back.  "So… we're not… We can agree that this," He pointed to himself and to her in turn. "Isn't gonna… work."

 

Yoruichi looked down at her shuffling feet, nodding.

 

"What are we going to do?" Kaien asked, and there was genuine misery in his voice.

 

It was probably the hardest thing she'd ever done, trying not to cling to the promise Kūkaku had made to her years ago.  She was certain Kaien himself wouldn't hesitate to honour it, even if he hadn't already been in love with someone else.  Breaking off the engagement… It had sounded so simple when she'd been a child, but Yoruichi knew all too well that nothing was ever simple in their world.

 

"I don't know… I…" Yoruichi trailed off, feeling overwhelmed.  "We should— We can discuss it some other time, can't we?  I have to—"

 

"Yes, yes, of course."

 

Nodding, Yoruichi gave him a brisk wave and set off, ignoring the voice in her head that chastised her for sweeping a real issue under the rug again, for running away from the problem.  She was seconds away from breaking into an actual run, when Kaien called after her.

 

"Hey, Yoruichi?"

 

"Yes?"

 

"I can be the one to break it off, if you want.  I mean… with my parents gone and all… It'll be easier on me than it would be on you."

 

 _Ugh, damn you.  You really **are** perfect, _ Yoruichi thought, unable to help but smile at him.  _It's too bad I'm not_.  If she were being completely honest with herself, she knew she would have never made a similar offer to him, were she in a position do so.  As right as he was in claiming that the fallout would be worse on her side if she were the one to end their betrothal, it wouldn't exactly make things a walk in the park for him, given his recent troubles with his clan elders.  In fact, it might even seriously damage his chances of one day marrying his lover, if he so wished.

 

_She's a lucky one, your girl._

 

"We'll talk about it.  Soon," she promised Kaien.  "But thank you for offering."

 

As she vanished into the night, still touched over his offer, Yoruichi wondered if perhaps they could meet in the middle and bear with the consequences of their choices together.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"Okay, look; we've _obviously_ gotten off on the wrong foot here, so can I just—"

****

**NOVEMBER 29 TH, 130 B.H.I., SPIRITUAL ARTS ACADEMY, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

He didn't think he would ever feel this way, but Kisuke was now grateful he had found himself on the wrong end of the spirit's blade so many times already.  If he hadn't, he might have reacted in the same, humiliating manner he had in front of his mother back in September.  Only it would have been ten times as worse in front of a roomful of his peers.

 

Letting out a sigh – _Punctured lung this time; she's getting creative-_ Kisuke opened his eyes carefully, wary of being watched by either a classmate of Master Morita.

 

The Zanjutsu Hall, where students came to practice learning the art of the sword, was uncharacteristically quiet today.  Six rows of students engaging in meditation sat on the polished wooden floors of the hall, Master Morita walking quietly among them.  Though Jinzen was meant to be practiced in solitude, Master Morita had explained to them that he always held at least one session per semester for novices, as an opportunity to correct the more superficial mistakes: insignificant though it seemed, the correct stance had been perfected after millennia of trial and error, and it was meant to aid them in reaching their goal in the quickest, most efficient way possible.

 

Master Morita made his rounds, arms folded behind his back, every now and then correcting a classmate's posture.  Mostly though, he was meant to keep an eye on their spiritual pressure, watching for any sudden shifts in—

 

_Oh… crap._

 

Belatedly, Kisuke realized that Master Morita would instantly be able to tell that he had returned and was only pretending to be meditating right now.  More importantly, he would be able to tell that he had been successful just a moment ago.

 

Surely enough, Kisuke heard the soft thud of footsteps behind him and grimaced, preparing himself for the inevitable questioning.

 

"That was quite something, Urahara," Master Morita said quietly, circling around to Kisuke's front and looking down at him, an approving look in his eyes.  "You've made progress.  Was it the first time?"

 

Kisuke tried his best to look humbled by the compliment.  "No," he said.  "I… seem to be getting close, but I find it difficult to get a… lock on it, if that makes sense, sir," Kisuke said, paraphrasing one of the commonest issues with Jinzen outlined in his textbook.

 

Master Morita nodded, buying the story completely.  "It makes perfect sense.  And it is a normal occurrence, at this early a stage.  But if the problem persists, or if you encounter any other issues, feel free to schedule a meeting with me so we can work through it."

 

_That depends: would you consider wanting to strangle your own Soul Cutter spirit an **issue** , sir?_

 

"Yes, sir.  Thank you, sir."

 

Kisuke pretended to return to his meditation as Master Morita gave him a smile and walked away, feeling a little guilty for the lie; of all his Academy Instructors, Master Morita had been the most gracious to Kisuke so far, making no effort to hide his enthusiasm over his quickly advancing student.  The man had even suggested entering him in the annual swordsmanship competition at the end of the year, for heaven's sake, an honor normally afforded only to third year students and above.  He clearly had faith in him, and Kisuke felt truly rotten for having to lie to him so flagrantly.

 

If anyone could help him with his current predicament, it would be Master Morita, indeed, but Kisuke didn't think he would ever be able to speak of this to _anyone_ , much less a man he didn't want to disappoint.

 

As he closed his eyes, he tried to at least clear his mind and stay silent for the remainder of the lesson, but he was finding it difficult to ignore the stabs of white-hot spiritual pressure he could feel from a few feet away.  Yoruichi was sitting one row away from him at the front, looking perfectly calm on the outside, her meditative pose impeccable, but she wasn't concentrating; she was furious.  It could be she was also having issues with her Soul Cutter, Kisuke mused, and resolved to talk to her at the end of class.  Perhaps they could commiserate over their disappointment together, even without going into specifics.

 

When it came time for them to be dismissed, however, Kisuke didn't have time to approach her; she walked up to him instead, or rather _into_ him.

 

She bumped to his side very deliberately and, without stopping, she muttered under her breath, "Lying to someone; how very novel of you."

 

"I… uhh… What?"

 

"You and I _both_ know you've done it," she said, coming to a brief halt and glaring at him over her shoulder.  "Sometimes, you're just…"  Shaking her head, Yoruichi never finished her sentence, marching on ahead toward the exit.  Her friends gave Kisuke a puzzled look, before tentatively following in her wake.

 

_…… **What**?_

 

Kisuke was left staring at her departing form, uncertain of what he could have done to deserve such attitude.  All right, so she had clearly overheard his conversation with Master Morita, but what was the big deal?  It wasn't as though he had lied to _her_ … directly. 

 

Utterly confused, he was wondering whether he should be expecting more disaster to follow in the coming days, when a hand landed on his shoulder, giving him a sympathetic pat.

 

"Trouble with the missus?" Harada asked, amusement coloring his voice.

 

Kisuke was far too tired to feign disbelief at the all-too-common-assumption, and simply rolled his eyes.  "Not _you_ , too."

 

"I kid, I kid," Harada said.  "You _do_ look like you're in need of alcohol, though."

 

Kisuke let out a scoff.  "What makes you say that?" he drawled.

 

"Well, I don't suppose you're happy over the test results in—" Harada began, but came to a sudden halt as Kisuke whipped around to look at him, his eyes widening.  "Youuuu… did _not_ see the test results, this is the first you're hearing of this," Harada said, wincing.  "Great.  Don't I feel good about myself right now."

 

 _The coming days?  Try the coming **hours** , _Kisuke thought.  First his own sword turned against him, then Yoruichi, and now he wasn't even able to keep his recent kidō troubles a secret from his Instructor.

 

"So you mentioned alcohol?"

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**DECEMBER 12 TH, 130 B.H.I., SPIRITUAL ARTS ACADEMY, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

 

For the fifth time in as many weeks, Yoruichi rolled onto her back in her futon, her back drenched in sweat, her chest heaving.

 

Opening her eyes into the darkness, she stared at the ceiling above her, by now prepared for it; the incident only ever lasted for a fraction of a moment, but always happened without fail: her vision would blur, details in the distance becoming harder to make out, but the entire room would light up in a white haze for a second before it dimmed back again, objects that had been so clear but a moment ago now only silhouettes in the dark.

 

Rubbing her eyes with the balls of her hands, Yoruichi breathed in deeply through the nose, her roommate's gentle dozing uninterrupted despite the racket she was causing.  _It's getting worse,_ Yoruichi thought, wishing even such vague stabs at communication would happen when she was _actually_ meditating, and not during her sleep.

 

Once or twice, she had reluctantly wondered whether her nocturnal restlessness was the result of dreams, instead of feeble attempts to establish a barely tangible connection between her and her Soul Cutter.  It certainly wouldn't be the first time she had experienced such a state of agitation upon awakening, but the two situations differed in a few key aspects:

 

Usually, when she found herself waking up after tormenting dreams, she wanted nothing but to crawl under the covers, wrapping her own arms around herself to calm down.  Unless of course her nighttime torment was of a different kind, the one that left her both mortified at the memory of her dreams and eager for more, the throbbing and dampness between her thighs refusing to subside until tended to.  

 

But lately, whenever she awoke, she felt an entirely alien discomfort in her own body, as though her skin were stretched too thin.  Once she managed to regain a measure of composure, she would stare at the ceiling for hours, fighting the urge to sneak out of her dorm and burn off the mounting tension in her chest with a run.

 

It was starting to affect her daily life, the messy, interrupted sleep leaving her bad-tempered and unfocused, likely to snap at everyone and everything.  She had half a mind to apologize to Kisuke for her outburst after avoiding him for the better part of a fortnight, but that would probably entail offering some sort of explanation. 

 

For all her anger at him for lying, he wasn't the only one with a secret to hide.  And in her case, it was more than one.

 

Winter vacation this year was going to be interesting, to say the least.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It didn't even hurt anymore.

 

There was an honest-to-goodness _sword_ sticking out of his gut and it didn't even pinch.  Come to think of it, he had never gotten physically hurt in her realm, not truly.  The raw shock of her sneak attacks, the hostile environment, his own confusion, it all added up to severe mental distress that seemed to manifest into pain.

 

Despite his newly-discovered enlightenment, however, he still found himself getting impaled on a weekly basis.  Kisuke-on-a-stick was getting really old, really fast.

 

"This is starting to get a little ridiculous, don't you think?" he drawled at her, by now so used to the feel of her body behind him, that he didn't even try to sneak a peek at her face anymore.

 

To his utter surprise, the spirit pulled out her sword in a slick, fluid motion, but she never gave him time to even process this, as she then bought it swiftly down to his neck.  Just before everything went dark, Kisuke could have sworn he heard her laugh.

 

 

**DECEMBER 24 TH, 130 B.H.I., SHIHŌIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

 

Sitting up on the bed with a start, Kisuke raised his hands up to his throat in alarm. 

 

_Did she just…?  Did she **DECAPITATE ME**?_

 

Not trusting his sense of touch at the moment, he stumbled out of bed, stubbing his toe against the vanity in the process, then hopped his way to the mirror, hissing and spitting.  His reflection stared back at him, hair askew, complexion pale as a sheet, his eyes wide and glinting with near-madness.  For all its sorry state, his head was thankfully still attached to his neck. 

 

Gritting his teeth, Kisuke slammed his hands on the vanity, the worrying expression in his eyes turning downright manic.

 

_………THAT **BITCH**!_

 

Jaw set in determination, Kisuke marched straight for his closet, pulling at clothes and covers impatiently until unveiling the trunk stashed in the back.  He yanked it out of the closet, undid the lock and reached for the only object he had placed in there: his sword.  He unsheathed it, tossing the scabbard carelessly as he climbed back on the bed and assumed a perfect Jinzen stance.

 

 _I am ending this charade **right now**._    

 

His fury should have made it impossible to achieve a meditative state, but no sooner had he closed his eyes, than he felt the familiar pull of his essence sinking into his inner world.  It had all been a little too easy, almost as if she had drawn him in herself, accepting his challenge.

 

The sequence was a routine one, by now: he knew that when he opened his eyes, he would be staring straight at the barren tree; she would be nowhere to be seen, but he would be able to sense her and when the moment was right, she would ambush him. 

 

_Let her come._

 

The strike came from behind, as always.  Kisuke watched, his expression almost bored, as the sword sliced through his chest.  A long tendril of hair brushed past his shoulder as she drew closer, her body flush against his back, and Kisuke leaned his head back, letting her hand crawl up his neck.

 

"Are you always so predictable?" he drawled.

 

Her sudden intake of breath tickled his ear, and he knew she was about to draw back, but he was too fast for her.  Grasping the blade with one hand, he reached for her wrist with the other, catching it just as she was about to draw it back.  He could feel the blade shake in his palm as she tried to free it, but he refused to let go.

 

"You seem to have misunderstood a few things," he said.  "So allow me to make this perfectly clear for you."

 

The piece of blade shattered as he clenched his hand, falling apart as though it had been made of clay.

 

"This is _my_ world.  Down here, _I_ make the rules.  And I know," he said, tightening his grip on her wrist.  "That you are an illusion."

 

It was the only explanation, really.  Every single source he had consulted had been very explicit on that fact: injury within one's inner world would always be reflected in the real world, yet he had never woken up with a single scratch despite her constant attacks.

 

At the sound of his words, the spirit stopped struggling.  The arm trapped in his hand slackened, then dissolved in a cloud of black smoke.  Kisuke watched the black wisp circle around him once, before drawing away and hurtling straight for the hill.  And all of a sudden, _she_ was there, settled between the roots of the tree, allowing him to fully take her form in for the first time.

 

There was a stark contrast between her pose the first time he had laid eyes on her and her current one.  He distinctly remembered part of him being in awe of her despite the crippling fear, as she had stood with her back turned to him, the picture of elegance.  In polite circles, the figure now sitting a few feet across from him would most likely be described as vulgar. 

 

The beautiful silk hikizuri she wore, a crimson piece with golden maple leaves peppering the left sleeve and base, was only barely wrapped around her slender frame.  A simple white obi held it together at the waist, her neckline wide open and hanging loosely from her shoulders, revealing a large expanse of skin so pale it had a slight green tint.  With one leg bent before her chest and the other casually dropping to the side, it was clear she wore little –if anything- underneath; if it weren't for the ends of the obi hanging down between her legs, her pose would have been downright indecent.

 

She might have looked like an exceptionally beautiful woman, but for the few eye-catching details that made it perfectly clear he was looking at an otherworldly creature of such terrible beauty, that instead of being pleasing to the eye, she elicited a raw, almost irrational feeling of terror.  Her painfully slim, spindly fingers ended in jagged fingernails, while her feet curved unnaturally at the ends, resembling talons.  Black nails, black talons, black lips, as dark as her loose hair and eyes, eyes without irises of whites, just pure black like the darkness surrounding them.

 

And if her entire look didn't already instill fear in the heart of even the most foolish of men, then the sword she so casually leaned upon might.  It was a simple katana with a black hilt, the tip plunged in the earth between her legs as she held it upright with her left hand.  There was nothing particularly impressive about it, but merely looking at the gleaming blade and its impossibly sharp edge made Kisuke think of nothing but blood and screaming.

 

The only reason Kisuke felt not a smidgen of fear when looking at her, was because he had seen her face countless times already; she was the very image of what he had always pictured Princess Sarashina of _Momijigari_ fame would look like, right down to a more than passing resemblance to Yoruichi. 

 

The black wisp of the illusion spell flew back toward the spirit, seeping into her blade and vanishing from sight.  The woman let go of the hilt and brought her hands together, a smirk dancing on her lips.

 

"And so he _finally_ understands," she said, as she applauded slowly.  She even _sounded_ like the Sarashina in his head: throaty and intensely sexual.    

 

Kisuke approached her, taking a seat on the hard ground right across her, examining her with the cool indifference one might bestow upon a specimen.  The spirit's lips curled upward even more under his gaze.

 

"Well, I'll say this much," Kisuke said.  "I didn't expect a woman."

 

"And I didn't expect you to ever grow a spine," she said.  "I was beginning to think I would be forever stuck with that timid little pipsqueak who first showed up here.  I am delighted to have been proven wrong."

 

"Are you?  I had a sneaking suspicion you were rather enjoying your little game," Kisuke said.  "Not to mention wasting my time in the process."

 

The spirit scoffed.  "Wasting your time?  On the contrary, I think we are getting along _swimmingly_ ," she said.  "Three months in and you have already learned the greatest lesson I could ever teach you: that fear is a useless emotion for a warrior."

 

"And here I thought the greatest lesson you could ever teach me was how to harness my power," Kisuke said.

 

"Ah.  And so we arrive at the root of your frustration with me," the spirit said.  "How very forward; not even a few cursory questions concerning my likes and dislikes," she said, feigning disappointment with a pout.

 

Kisuke scowled at her.  _Frustration?_   That word didn't even _begin_ to cover what he felt toward her.  "I have _always_ had near-perfect control.  _Always_ ," he said.

 

"Control… Interesting choice of words."

 

Ignoring her, he piled on.  "And then _you_ showed up, and all of a sudden, I can't maintain a hold on even the simplest spells: they either fizzle or get completely out of hand.  Doesn't take a genius to pinpoint the problem."

 

"Oh, but you _are_ a genius, aren't you?" the spirit said, gripping the hilt of her sword and leaning forward slightly.  "A thinker, a scientist.  And yet you _choose_ to be a warrior.  I find it hard to believe this contradiction never occurred to you until now.  Did you never wonder why you're drawn to it?"

 

_It?_

"Did you never wonder: why _her_?"

 

The tone of the question and the sneer on her lips left no room for debate as to who she was referring to, and Kisuke suddenly felt his resolve waver. 

 

"It's easy to see why _now_ , of course," the spirit went on, relentless.  "You men are all so predictable.  Always driven by your baser instincts: all blood, sweat and seed.  Most of you hardly ever use your brain; two heads, but only enough focus to power one of them at a time."

 

Even if her words hadn't been so drenched with innuendo, her raspy voice alone would have been enough to elicit the blush that was now spreading all over his body.  What made her arguments so difficult to contradict wasn't the highly confrontational attitude, but rather the fact that she had injected them with a hint of truth, then twisted that very truth into a perversion of what it once had been, building upon his own shame of his innermost thoughts and desires.

 

"Such simple creatures," she said.  "And I do enjoy the simple things.  I rather think I would've liked being a man instead; it sounds far more enjoyable and infinitely less tiring."

 

"Are you done?" Kisuke said, thinking that if his teeth clenched together any harder, they might just shatter.

 

"Oh, you foolish little boy… I have only just begun."

 

It must have been some sort of self-preserving mechanism: one moment he was looking at the spirit, ears pounding at her mocking, sinister laughter, and the next he was back in his room, back to reality.

 

He remained still for a long time, staring at nothing and barely breathing, until a rattling sound brought him out of his reverie.  Looking down, he saw that his hands were shaking, his palms so tightly clenched around his blade that his clothes and sheets were stained crimson.

 

He let go of the sword as though electrified, for the first time truly appreciating the meaning of the phrase: _Be careful what you wish for.  You might just get it._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**DECEMBER 31 ST, 130 B.H.I., SHIHŌIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

 

The sky was clouded that night, hardly a star in sight. 

 

Kisuke sank against the stone staircase out by the front courtyard of the estate, long past caring about the curious looks he was drawing from guards doing their patrols around the perimeter.  The sight of someone choosing to linger outside, on an overcast night no less, when the greatest celebration in the realm was taking place inside was most likely rare enough.  Especially when that certain someone was sober.

 

 _Ish,_ Kisuke thought, raising his half-full glass of sake up to the light.  _Actually make that half-empty._   

 

"Aren't you a little young for this?"

 

Kisuke rolled his head back toward the stairs, coming face-to-face with the upside down form of Tessai.  Though he had caught sight of him every now and then while wandering about the castle these past few days, it was the first time they were speaking since the start of Kisuke's winter vacation from the Academy. 

 

"You gonna tell my mother on me?" Kisuke asked with a grin, following Tessai with his eyes as the older man approached him, coming to sit on the steps right beside him.

 

"I'm surprised she hasn't come looking for you herself," Tessai said, straightening out his black hakama before taking a seat.

 

"She stayed in," Kisuke said, shifting his eyes over to the view of the lantern-lit grounds.  "Wasn't feeling too well for a party."

 

"As opposed to you?"

 

"Hey, now; I am reveling, am I not?" Kisuke said, lifting his glass again and giving it a jiggle, the long sleeve of his midnight blue kimono shaking along with the motion.

 

Tessai didn't look particularly amused, giving him a calculated gaze over the rim of his glasses.  "Must've missed you at the Vault; even though I've been there practically all day for a week."

 

"Yeah I…" Kisuke said, taking a sip of sake to mask his reluctance to answer.  Truth be told, even if he hadn't been actively avoiding everyone –Yoruichi in particular- during his vacation, he wouldn't have dared spend any time at the Vault; with his spiritual energy acting up as it had been for months, he couldn't afford to do anything kidō-related.  "Just taking a break, you know?  Busy semester and all.  Just wanted to rest."

 

"And I suppose your absence had nothing to do with your injuries?"

 

Kisuke's head whipped around so fast he was surprised it didn't snap cleanly off his neck.  "I… what?"

 

Tessai pointed at Kisuke's hands.  "You've never worn tekko before," he said, looking at the dark blue hand coverings.  "Which wouldn't be all that surprising on its own, except I haven't seen you take them off once since you've returned.  Not even tonight.  That, along with a faint trace of kaidō constantly hovering around your palms tells me all I need to know." 

 

Though he deliberately avoided making eye-contact, Kisuke could feel Tessai's gaze trained on him, knowing what the older man was about to ask next.

 

"Show me."

 

Kisuke shut his eyes, now feeling every bit the cornered animal.  Even if he didn't go into detail about the horrible confrontation with his Soul Cutter spirit, there was no hiding behind the fact that he should have been able to heal his own hands.  However, applying just a minor amount of kaidō every day was all he had trusted himself to do, and had decided to cover up the wounds until they'd healed completely.   

 

It wasn't as though he hadn't considered asking Tessai for help: the man was Lieutenant of the Kidō Corps, the division that knew more about the demon arts than any other in Soul Society, the ones who understood spiritual matter to such a degree that they were responsible for the creation of every spell in a Soul Reaper's repertoire.  Tessai was uniquely qualified to offer some insight into what was happening to him, but the problem was that he wouldn't approach the matter with the disinterest of a scientist.  Tessai was a _friend_ , and judging by the softening tone in his voice when he had asked to see Kisuke's hands, he was the currently most inconvenient type of friend: the concerned kind. 

 

Swallowing hard, Kisuke slowly removed his tekko and placed his hands on Tessai's waiting palms.

 

Tessai's brow furrowed as he looked at the barely healed cuts.  "These aren't very deep," he said.  "Certainly not beyond your skill to treat.  Why haven't you?"

 

"I'm too—" The honest word here was _scared_ , but Kisuke held himself back from saying it.  "I… I don't trust myself to do it.  My uhh… My spiritual power has been… I've been having issues."

 

"Issues?"

 

"It… it fluctuates.  Either weak or uncontrollable, almost never anything in-between."

 

He had expected Tessai to look anything from suspicious to disappointed at the revelation, but Kisuke was surprised to see that he looked confused instead.  "Really?  I thought you'd gotten used to it by now," he said, as he began to heal one of the cuts.

 

"Used to it?  What do you—?"

 

"Your spiritual power has always been a little… temperamental," Tessai said.  "It's not exactly common, but certainly not unheard of.  It's what a layman might call _lack of talent_ with kidō.  It's true to a degree; some people simply cannot grasp the theory, but there are others whose learning lags behind only because they have trouble controlling their spiritual power.  You already had decent control of it by the time you became my student, so I thought you'd learned to work around it.  It was part of what had impressed Lord Shihōin in the first place.  Myself as well."

 

_"Control… Interesting choice of words."_

 

Kisuke gaped at Tessai, all concerns over his latest problems fading away in light of Tessai's bizarre claim.  "What are you _talking_ about?"

 

He never thought he'd actually witness this, but Tessai's second kaidō suddenly fizzled, his concentration lost as he stared at Kisuke, eyebrows arched.  "Are you telling me you didn't know?"

 

"No!"

 

Blinking rapidly, Tessai seemed to snap out of his shock and went back to healing the wound on Kisuke's other hand, keeping his eyes on him.  "But… Wasn't—?  When you first came down to work at the Vault, I thought that was the reason you were so frustrated.  It's why I told you you were expecting too much, too soon," Tessai said.  "I mean, it would have taken anyone a long time to acclimatize, but I believed you were upset since you understood the theory, but were unable to produce results since you gave up too soon."

 

Kisuke was left dumb-founded by the revelation, his hands frozen in place long after Tessai had let go of them, rigid like the rest of his body even as his mind raced ahead.  The spirit's throwaway comment on control, his very first success in casting a spell which had blown up in his face, his constant failures to make any headway during his first few days in the Vault...  

 

"But," he said, still refusing to fully believe what Tessai was telling him.  "I've never— I've always mastered spells quickly.  I never had trouble—"

 

"Well, controlling a small amount of power _shouldn't_ be difficult for someone like you, especially since your spiritual power grew steadily, much like everyone else's," Tessai said.  "When did these issues first appear?"

 

"Start of the semester."

 

"As soon as you acquired your Soul Cutter, then," Tessai said, his tone suggesting that he had expected this precise answer.  "When you gained a sudden, large boost in power."      

 

Kisuke stared down at his now unblemished hands, feeling a tremendous load lift off his shoulders.  If he'd understood Tessai correctly, this obviously meant that he would always have to try harder to maintain control, but the fact that he had an answer to his gnawing problem was a massive relief.  Figuring out the _why_ was always the hardest part; working out the _how_ was substantially simpler.

 

"You understand what this means, don't you?" Tessai said.  "Every time your power grows from now on—"

 

"I'll have to put more effort into controlling it," Kisuke said, nodding, letting his hands drop at long last.  "I— Thank you, I was…"

 

Sighing, Tessai rested his elbows on his knees, leaning in closer to Kisuke.  "Why didn't you come to me when the problems first began?  You could have written me, explained everything," he asked.  "I could have spared you _months_ of needless worry."

 

Kisuke slipped his newly healed palms between his thighs, tearing his gaze away from Tessai.  "I… I didn't want to…"

 

"Concern anyone?" Tessai said.  "You think people weren't already concerned about you?  You're a highly inventive liar, but a _terrible_ actor, you know," Tessai said, amusement apparent in his tone.  "You haven't told me how you even _got_ those cuts in the first place.  So if you won't talk to me or your mother—"

 

"She knows?"

 

" _Of course_ she knows.  She's seen you look exhausted and preoccupied.  And she was the one who clued me in on your wounds.  You think she can't sense the remnants of a spell on her son's hands every single day?" Tessai said.  "So if you won't tell her or myself, would you consider telling someone else?"

 

"What do you mean someone—?" Kisuke began to say, turning toward Tessai, but momentarily lost the ability to form words when he saw who was waiting in the shadows at the top of the stairs.

 

"Yes, _she_ noticed, too," Tessai said, giving Kisuke a semi-disparaging look as he rose on his feet.  He walked up the stairs, turning to the shaded figure.  "I shall be waiting down the corridor, Lady Yoruichi."

 

Given Tessai's words, Kisuke assumed that Yoruichi had snuck out of the great hall, which meant that their time was limited, as the case always was in the Shihōin estate.  As much as he would've normally resented that, this was one time he was glad for the ever-watchful staff of the castle; he really wasn't in a sharing mood, not even when it came to Yoruichi.

 

He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she descended the stairs, taking his first good look at her in days.  All right, so he _might_ have snuck a peek –or twenty- back at the great hall, but this was the first time he was afforded a full, unencumbered view of her.  Immediately, he was immensely thankful to see that she wasn't clad in crimson tonight.  With her dark skin, white kimono, and long hair styled in an updo, she looked nothing like the haunting image of the spirit within him.

 

She took a seat on the same step as him, arms tightly crossed before her chest, her face stone-like, save for the slight pout of her lips.  Kisuke found himself taking a sudden interest in his sandals at that moment.  She was silent for a few seconds and Kisuke could feel her penetrating gaze on him, wondering when she was going to speak.  _Is she expecting **me** to speak first?_  His speculation came to an end when he felt a sharp whack upside the head.

 

"Wha—?" he spluttered, turning to her, one hand already flying up to his stinging nape.  " _Ow_!"

 

"I _told_ you not to lie to me again!" Yoruichi said, pointing an index finger at him threateningly, her face now considerably more animated as it contorted into a deep scowl.

 

"I didn't!"

 

"You lied by omission!  Honestly, is it a compulsion or something?  Why is it _always_ your first instinct?"

 

Kisuke opened his mouth to speak but closed it again at once, not really having much of a defense for her accusation.  What he did have, however, was a counter-argument: "Like you haven't been lying to _me_ ," he said, frowning. 

 

Her outburst back in class hadn't just come out of thin air, after all, and he was certain his lies had only been the tip of the iceberg.  She had been distant and evasive for nearly two weeks before their brief spat, though that had been the first time she had actually directed any anger at him.  Previously, she had simply looked uncomfortable and furtive.

 

Yoruichi took pause at that, shifting her body to face the grounds and away from him, looking a little sheepish. 

 

Kisuke briefly worried that their raised voices might have attracted the attention of nearby guards, but just as the thought entered his mind, he realized their environment had gone eerily silent, all ambient sound disappearing.  _Tessai,_ he thought.  _He must've cast a barrier._   Kisuke made a mental note to thank him for it later.  And for about a million other things, as well.

 

"How'd you cut your hands?" Yoruichi said in monotone, not looking at him.

 

"Gripped my sword too tight," Kisuke said in as dispassionate a voice as hers, deciding not to lie about that part.

 

"Was that a euphemism for…?"

 

 _A euphemism?  For wh—?  WAIT._ Swiveling around, eyes as round as saucers, Kisuke hurried to set the record straight, his face heating up from 36.6 degrees Celsius to the approximate temperature of the sun's core in half a second.  " _NO IT WASN'T A—_!"

 

Yoruichi was giggling.  If he hadn't been so quick to fall for it, he might have noticed the tongue-in-cheek tone of her earlier words.

 

Letting out a scoff, he ran a hand through his hair as he shook his head at her, hoping the cold would hurry up and cool his reddened face.  "Fucking Hell."

 

" _Fucking Hell_?" Yoruichi said, arching both eyebrows.  "How much of that did you have?" she asked, pointing at the glass of sake next to him.

 

"I'm not drunk."

 

"You _never_ swear unless you're drunk."

 

"Oh, I swear plenty, all right…" Kisuke muttered.  "Just… not out loud"

 

Yoruichi giggled again.  "You should try it.  Instant stress relief."

 

"No, I shouldn't.  Sorry about… the bad language."

 

Her giggling turning to full-blown laughter, Yoruichi turned to face him once more, looking gleeful.  "Are you _apologizing_ for swearing?  Oh Gods, I am _so_ telling Kūkaku—"

 

Though he and Kūkaku didn't know each other well enough to banter with quite as much ease as he did with Yoruichi, Kisuke was well aware that if the older woman found out about this, he would never live it down, semi-stranger or not.  More worryingly, when it came to taunts, Kūkaku was ten times worse than her younger counterpart.  "Yoruichi!" Kisuke said, trying to sound indignant, only to have it come out as pleading instead.

 

Yoruichi's laughter slowly died down and she stretched her legs out in front of her, now looking decidedly more sober.  "You wanna talk about it?" she asked.

 

_Talk about it?_

In his mind's eye, Kisuke pictured a conversation in which he divulged the true nature of his inner spirit to Yoruichi, explaining how she had been the primary inspiration for her, how that day they had spent under the maple tree back in November last year had obviously touched him in ways he hadn't even fathomed, how she was now _literally_ a piece of his very soul, and how said piece was actually a corrupted pastiche of a number of things he had a strong emotional attachment to.  The hypothetical conversation did _not_ go well. 

 

Talk about it?  He'd rather set himself on fire.

 

"You wanna talk about _your_ thing?" he asked.

 

" _Nope_."

 

 _Thank the heavens._ Turning to her, Kisuke slipped his hands under his legs, rocking gently back and forth.  "You _can_ , though… Whenever you feel like it."

 

"I know," she said, giving him a gentle smile.  Her eyes stayed on him, shifting down to his legs after a while.  "So, is that my present in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

 

Kisuke laughed, reacting to her second taunt with far more grace and significantly less blushing.  He slipped his hand into the pocket of his hakama, retrieving the small box that indeed contained her present, then handed it to her. 

 

Yoruichi took it, her eyes falling on the label at once.  " _For Miss Crankypants_ ," she read, rolling her eyes, but looking amused all the same.  "Cute," she said, opening up the small drawstring bag that hung from her obi to pull out his own gift.  

 

The slim package was about the size of a small envelope and as thick as a short book.  As curious as he was, he would have to wait until returning to the apartment to unwrap it, as per their agreement.  He reached out to take it, but Yoruichi suddenly pulled her hand back, hesitating.  "What?" he asked.

 

Yoruichi bit her lip, looking somewhat embarrassed.  "I… may have addressed it a similar way," she said.

 

" _May_ have."

 

"But a touch more hostile."

 

"…All right," Kisuke said, still holding his hand out.

 

Yoruichi made a move to hand it over, but drew her hand back again.  "Okay, a _lot_ more—"

 

Kisuke grabbed a hold of her wrist gently, then yanked the package out of her hand.  As he turned his eyes toward the label, he saw Yoruichi wince.  " _For the Lying Douchebag_ ," he read out loud.

 

Yoruichi pursed her lips tightly.

 

Kisuke stared at the label still, feeling the urge to laugh, but holding it together just to see how long Yoruichi could stand watching his blank expression.  It took about ten seconds of silence to break her. 

 

"I was still mad when I wr—"

 

Kisuke lost it at the slightly shrill edge of her voice.  Now blushing a little herself, Yoruichi looked away as she folded her arms, a grin on her lips.  Kisuke sipped the present into his pocket, then glanced toward the entrance before turning back to her.  "Won't they be looking for you?" he asked.

 

"Just a bit longer," she said, staring at the sky.  From inside the estate, the pleasant buzz of excited revelers seemed to intensify, and Kisuke saw Yoruichi mouth the numbers one by one as midnight grew closer.

 

There was a smile on her face as the sky lit up in bright blue first, then red, green, yellow, pink, the Shiba clan's fireworks unfurling like flowers in the sky.  Yoruichi stood up, her frame outlined in a bright yellow haze as she smiled at him.  "Happy Birthday," she said, then began to ascend the steps to head back inside.

 

"Happy Birthday," Kisuke called after her, his eyes following her departure long after she had disappeared into the shadowy corridor.  At that moment, he wished more than anything that they could have spent their winter vacation at the Academy, or anywhere else where they might have enjoyed some privacy.  If they had, he might've mustered up the courage to reach for her hand on the stroke of midnight.

 

Scoffing, he turned to the sky.  _I truly **am** a compulsive liar,_ he thought, wondering just when he'd started lying even to himself.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

If he hadn't already seen the bone-chilling coldness those black eyes were capable of the first time he'd seen her, Kisuke might've found the sight of her, sitting cross-legged on the ground and grinning broadly amusing.  As it stood, he found it disturbing, and more than a little annoying as it had become her standard way of greeting him upon arrival.

 

He half-wished she would go back to stabbing him instead. 

 

Their conversations were always short, and always left him wanting to tear his hair out, or wish he could crawl into the deepest, darkest hole he could find and never re-emerge.  When she wasn't berating every single flaw of his –and even _he_ hadn't realized he had so many- she would always return to her favorite topic, his greatest weakness.

 

"You're not going to answer today either?  Why her?" the spirit asked, for what felt like the thousandth time.

 

Instead of going down his usual route and letting her see that she had gotten to him, Kisuke simply shrugged.  "Is there a point?  You already have all the answers, don't you, spirit?"

 

"That I do," she said, one finger running down the flat of her blade.  "It is amusing how you seem to think this is an insult to you.  It disappoints me to see that a boy so clever can't seem to grasp a very simple, basic fact: I am your heart.  And where _you_ stay silent or hide behind pretty words, _I_ speak openly.  That is all.  If I know, then _you_ know.  You simply refuse to admit what you already know is true."

 

It was the first thing she had ever said that didn't elicit an instantly negative reaction from him.  As two parts of a whole, it made sense that she was, in many ways, his antithesis, the yin to his yang.  If she had been a different spirit, they might have been able to have a highly interesting, long conversation on that matter alone.  But being who she was, she didn't stop there.

 

"And you do, don't you?" she said, her trademark smirk making its first appearance for today.  "You knew.  Long before she grew a woman's curves and started turning heads.  You knew it would be her."

 

What he couldn't understand concerning her fascination with Yoruichi was what it was all leading to.  If she simply wanted to humiliate him, there were a million different ways to do it, and she had tried nearly all of them at least once.  However strongly he felt for her didn't seem to be the issue at hand. 

 

"You wonder at times," the spirit went on.  "Whether it's because she's the only woman you've ever truly known.  You wonder if experience might slacken the hold she has over you."

 

It shouldn't have surprised him that she was so intimately aware of his innermost thoughts, but it did throw him off balance to have them all regurgitated at him, repeated in a voice that was clearly designed to evoke erotic imagery; being the one who had gifted her with it, he should know.

 

"But deep down, you feel it, the truth: it will _always_ be her.  And you will ache, and you will burn, and you will hunger for her to the end of your days, but you have yet to figure out _why_."

 

It had taken many past failures, but by now, he was able to listen to her drivel while maintaining a straight face, no matter how it truly made him feel.  "I suppose I cannot really blame you for trying to provoke me," Kisuke said, once he was certain she was done talking.  "This place _is_ rather depressing.  It must get very dull, sitting around here all day with nothing to do."

 

"You _do_ realize that you are calling—"

 

"Myself dull?" Kisuke finished for her.  "I never claimed to be an interesting person.  For that, you have my sympathy: being stuck for an indeterminate amount of time with someone as boring as me… I do not fault you for all this hostility."

 

While not a particularly inspired trick, responding to clear baiting with calm, measured understanding did have its benefits.  It might not have touched her, but at the very least it broke her torrential rhythm, which was what he had been after in the first place.

 

She took a few seconds, black eyes appraising him coolly.  It was a little disconcerting to witness, since there were no pupils or irises to follow, but he remained impassive as she collected her thoughts, no doubt planning her follow-up.    

 

"Oh, I don't know…" she said.  "Choosing this particular tree, modeling your own other half using snippets of the girl you are hopelessly drawn to… it all makes for a rather interesting person, I think.  A sentimental fool, to be certain, but not boring in the least.  I could see myself being entertained by you for centuries."

 

_I'll bet you could._

 

"It's the void that makes for the most fascinating part, of course," she said.  "You think there's nothing else in there," She pointed at his chest.  "Worth a damn other than your feelings for those two?"

 

When he had prepared himself for her follow-up, he hadn't expected her to go straight for the jugular.  In retrospect, it had been foolish not to.

 

Kisuke didn't know what was worse; the fact that she had decided to include his mother in her twisted little game –for her was certain that was who she had been referring to- or that she had finally arrived at the very core of the truth.  And much like she'd claimed just minutes ago, he had known it, somewhere deep inside, like a splinter in his mind he couldn't pinpoint or name, but had always known was there.

 

His hands shook, whether from fury or horror he couldn't tell, and he stood up, intending to disappear from this wretched place and never return, even if it meant never moving forward as a Soul Reaper.

 

But suddenly she was there, sharp, jagged nails digging into his chest, refusing to allow him to leave, all hints of enjoyment at his torment gone from her face.  "And then, of course, we have yours truly," she said, her eyes boring straight into his.  "Challenging, insubordinate… eager to humiliate you by parading everything you're so desperate to keep a secret right in front of you.  It begs the question as to why you would ever shape me in her likeness but give me the voice of your worst, most merciless critic."

 

Kisuke stared at her, his throat closing up, lower lip trembling as he struggled to answer but found no sound would come out, not even a whimper. 

 

"Do you truly hate yourself so much?" she asked, and there was pain in her own voice, the very pain rooted deep within his heart reflected in her words.

 

_"I am your heart."_

 

He understood then, how unfair he had been to her.  What must it have felt like, to be hated from the second one sprung into existence?  For if he hated himself, how could he not hate _her_ , the personification of everything about him he'd chosen to seal away into the depths of his soul, hoping it would never fight back for control?

 

"Sometimes," he whispered to her, the unspoken apology, inadequate though it was, implicit in his voice.

 

The spirit's mask of stone seemed to crumble upon his admission, the terrible eyes he thought were incapable of warmth or weakness turning despondent.  "Then how can you expect me to ever love you?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next part is coming up as soon as possible. Most of it is actually ready and I did consider waiting a few days to post the whole thing, but a) The finished product would've been far too long, and b) There is a slight possibility that I will be unable to get any writing done for a couple of weeks, so I didn't want to delay the entire update for a part that can stand on its own. Best case scenario, I'll have it up in less than a week, but there is a chance it might take longer.
> 
> Please bear with me on the whole 'Kisuke has unstable reiatsu' thing. I know it must seem completely out of the blue, as my hints in past chapters were deliberately miniscule, and there isn't really anything openly supporting this in the canon. I do have my reasons for doing it, and I plan on fully explaining the thought process that led to this decision in future chapters. 
> 
> In case the name Princess Sarashina (mentioned when Kisuke first truly sees Benihime) doesn't ring any bells, I shall direct you to chapter 4 (Wanderlust), at the scene where Kisuke and Yoruichi spend the afternoon under a maple tree. There was a reason I chose that particular scene as the story's cover, as it will end up being significant in a number of ways. 
> 
> Also, I hope it didn't seem like I was glossing over Yoruichi's inner world and her zanpakutō spirit, but for reasons that will become even more apparent in part 2, this chapter had to mostly focus on Kisuke. Fear not, however, as Yoruichi's turn is coming up in the next chapter (meaning the one after part 2), where you'll get a deeper exploration of both her inner world and spirit. 
> 
> More zanpakutō conversations/confrontations and some Quincy action (among other things) to come in part two! If you enjoyed this, please drop me a line!


	8. The Barren Tree - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so you know how I said this wouldn't really start turning M-rated until a few chapters down the road? I take it back. This chapter flirts with M a little too boldly, so be advised: tharr be violence ahead. As with the previous chapter, the scenes taking place in someone's inner world don't have a timestamp unless said person wakes up.
> 
> Late 18th century Kyōto makes an appearance in this chapter. I hope I got the surrounding geography right; there are a bunch of beautiful maps online, including actual maps of the city during that time period, but my Japanese is far too weak to be of much help in reading them, so I had to rely on modern information to try and match the two up. All geographical locations mentioned there (including a famous temple) very much exist as described (or should, at the given time period), assuming of course I didn't mess it all up. 
> 
> There is a slightly paraphrased Donnie Darko quote somewhere in the chapter (man, I really need to rewatch that one day). 
> 
>  
> 
> Cultural notes:
> 
> The four directional gods: Also known as the Four Symbols, in Chinese geomancy there are four gods who act as guardians of the four basic directions. There's an in-chapter explanation concerning their influence in Japanese culture, where they were renamed as such: Seiryū, the Azure Dragon of the East; Suzaku, the Vermillion Bird of the South; Byakko, the White Tiger of the West; Genbu, the Black Turtle of the North.
> 
> Ryokan: Traditional inns meant to be used by travelers along Japan's highways. They originated somewhere around the start of the 17th century and still exist to this day, mostly in rural, scenic areas.
> 
> Tsubasa: Japanese unisex name. Literally means 'wing'
> 
> "A man like fresh-split bamboo" (phrase): A Japanese expression for someone of a frank nature.
> 
> The reality of mankind (Buddhist parable): Kisuke thinks about this at a certain point in the chapter, along with another one of the Buddha's teachings. Westerners don't often think of the Japanese as Buddhists, seeing as those who subscribe to any religion are usually Shintoists, but Buddhism does play its part –and a rather significant one at that- in Japanese culture. I'll avoid going into depth so I don't spoil you, just bear in mind that when Kisuke thinks of quoted text, that's what he's referring to.
> 
> Enjoy!

The heat was unbearable.

 

It was becoming difficult to breathe, the humidity in the air clinging to her every pore.  The clothes that had felt like a mild annoyance a few hours ago were now making it difficult to move, the breeches and slim shirt sticking on her body like a second, wrinkled set of skin. 

 

Yoruichi might have prayed for some rain, but she was now deep enough in the thicket that she didn't think it would do her much good.  The canopy of the forest was so lush, so thick, that she would be lucky to get a couple of droplets trickle down her way.  

 

There was no path to follow, no discernible way ahead, but she knew there had to be a river or a lake nearby.  She could hear the faint sound of running water, in between the incessant chirping of the birds and the distant sound of croaking frogs.  Everything she stepped upon was covered in a thick layer of green moss: it hung off the large, overgrown trees like green icicles and coated the fallen branches and rocks on the ground.  She had slipped more times than she could count as she squeezed her way through, her skin as riddled with scrapes as it was with bug bites.

 

With a grunt, she pulled on a stray vine, climbing onto the precarious surface of a thick tree branch.  She held on to the vine for dear life as she began to make her descent, but it snapped somewhere along the way, sending her crashing onto the ground.  It was impossible to grab a hold of _anything_ as she tumbled down the slope, so she endured it, guarding her head as best she could and preparing herself for impact that never came.

 

Instead, she found herself coming out of her roll onto a straight plot of dirt smack in the middle of the jungle-like forest.  It was a natural path, no doubt formed as the various creatures of the forest headed down that way to—

 

"Water," she croaked, her eyes snapping wide.

 

Forgetting all about her fatigue and battered state, Yoruichi scrambled up to her feet, following the intensifying sound of the stream up ahead.  The serpentine dirt path curved around the trees and boulders, eventually leading to a small downward slope that ended on the banks of a plentiful water source.

 

Yoruichi sprinted down the slope, her shoes sinking in the mud as she thundered on ahead, but she didn't care; all she cared about was the roaring sound of the water nearby and the sudden burst of light as the canopy above her thinned out.  She didn't pause or slow down the least bit, just threw herself into the bank knees-first, her belly flopping down onto the surface of the cool water with a resounding splash.

 

She drank to her heart's content, dunking her head underwater and submerging herself fully to cool off her feverish skin.  It was only when her thirst was adequately quenched that she took in her surroundings, pushing her wet hair off her face.

 

Now that she wasn't trapped within the hellish jungle, she could fully appreciate the raw, wild beauty of this place.  All around the perimeter of the small lake she had found herself in, she could see thick, intensely green vegetation.  The only thing in the vicinity that resembled a path was the one she had just tumbled down from.  Clearly, the forest was a virgin, bountiful ecosystem that hadn't been disturbed by the presence of other Souls.

 

 _I'm glad I came here,_ she thought, smiling at the clear sky above.  _What a beautiful place.  I'll just have to remember to mark down the way—_

 

Blinking, Yoruichi tried to recall how she had gotten there to begin with, but found that she couldn't.  _That's odd…_   She had that nagging feeling that she had come looking for something, but couldn't figure out what the something might be.  It was there, _right_ there, at the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't put it into words.

 

She tried not to worry about finding her way back, torn between trying to retrace her steps and wanting to explore more of this… place, whatever it was.  She could see that the small lake narrowed down into a river a small distance away, so at least she wouldn't have to worry about entering the difficult to navigate forest again.

 

 _I'll find my way back,_ she told herself resolutely.  _I just… I need to stay a little longer.  I **have** to._

 

Pushing herself deeper into the water, she swam on ahead toward the center of the lake, her eyes gazing upon the small waterfall up ahead.  The source of the river was probably somewhere high up in the mountain, water trickling down the rock ledges, feeding into the lake she was currently swimming in. 

 

As she approached the waterfall, she saw that up ahead, the water seemed to be cascading down short, consecutive drops.  It shouldn't be a difficult climb to manage if she was careful with her footing.  Biting down on her lower lip, Yoruichi swam around the vortex over to the wall of rock beneath it, pawing at the wet outcroppings, looking for the least slippery one to grab hold of.  When she felt she had a solid grip, she pulled herself up, trying to find a suitable crevice for a foothold.  It took a few false starts, but eventually she found a safe way up, climbing slowly and carefully to avoid having to start all over.

 

As it turned out, the first climb truly was the hardest part.  Yoruichi pushed herself up into the open field of dry rock, panting.  She could see now that the water cut a narrow path down the gravelly rock bed, spilling over the ledges until it ended up in the lake below.  Yoruichi took a seat on the rock bed, watching the gentle flow of the water stream while she tried to catch her breath before continuing.

 

When she felt she was ready to move ahead, she pushed herself up to her feet, her eyes traveling over the brownish-grey rock, looking for the best path around the stream.  Her gaze swept over a strange, spotted rock formation a few ledges above, originally dismissing it as nothing but an odd little boulder, until something within her clicked: the boulder had _eyes_.

 

Whipping her head back toward the strange spectacle, she saw, much to her shock, that it wasn't a rock, indeed.  She had no definition, no words to name the animal that stood a short distance away from her, but one thing was for certain: it was a breathtaking creature.

 

A large cat of some sort, its pale ochre fur was peppered with dusky grey, nearly black, elongated splotches.  There was a dotted pattern on its forehead, its snout short and delicate, its ears small and rounded, a pair of brownish yellow eyes staring at her intensely.  The look in the animal's eyes was fierce but also guarded, as though it didn't know quite what to make of her, but wouldn't hesitate to attack if cornered.

 

Somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered someone –probably Kisuke- telling her that many animals and especially predators considered direct eye-contact to be a sign of aggression, but she found herself unable to look away. 

 

 _This is it.  This is why I came here.  I was looking for you, I know it now…_  

 

The large cat dropped its body low, its extremely long, tufted tail swishing nervously.  Yoruichi took a careful step forward, trying to keep her limbs loose and her body relaxed to avoid alarming the animal.

 

The cat didn't give her the chance to approach any closer, however, dashing away and out of sight at once.

 

"Wait!" Yoruichi called, sprinting after it without thinking.

 

She had only taken two steps forward when she slipped on the rock, her body growing weightless for a split second before she felt a sharp jolt of pain and fell into darkness.

 

**JANUARY 14 TH, 129 B.H.I., SPIRITUAL ARTS ACADEMY, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

 

With a short gasp, Yoruichi opened her eyes, her vision swimming for a few seconds as she tried to reconcile what had just happened with her surroundings.  She was back in her dorm, sitting on the tatami mat in the communal room, her tantō laid across her lap.

 

_Did… Did I just—? Owwwwww…_

 

Hissing, she tentatively touched the back of her head, right at the spot she had landed upon.  When she withdrew her fingers, she saw that they were coated with blood.  Apparently, the books were right: any injury sustained in there was going to be reflected in real life.  She tried not to fret over the possibility –however remote- that she may actually die in that place, and shifted her attention to the joy of the moment instead.

 

As her hammering heart slowed down, her breath becoming even, she realized with a start that she had just had her first successful, deliberate foray into her inner world.

 

* * *

 

**FEBRUARY 1 ST, 129 B.H.I., SPIRITUAL ARTS ACADEMY, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

He didn't try contacting her again, their last conversation far too real and raw for him to be able to deal with her face-to-face again so soon.  And yet he should have known she wouldn't relent.  If he wasn't going to bother summoning her, then _she_ would summon _him_.

 

The first time she did it they had spent what must have been hours doing nothing but staring at each other in silence, until he had eventually left voluntarily.  He briefly considered implementing counter-measures to keep her from drawing him in again, but for all his past training in pulling all-nighters, he couldn't avoid sleeping _forever_.

 

As Kisuke watched the first few rays of sunlight slip in through the window in his dorm bedroom, he replayed her words in his head, the one-sided conversation they'd had the second time she'd pulled him into his inner world.

 

_"You think you are the first person, the first **Soul Reaper** to ever feel the way you do?  Unless I am mistaken, there is a well-documented history of bloodlust in your world, is there not?  In fact, there are circles within the Soul Reapers themselves where it is a perfectly acceptable attitude."_

 

He might have had a fitting retort for her if her words hadn't made so much sense.

 

 _"I know what you're afraid of.  It's not the bloodlust itself, is it?  That thing here,"_ she'd said, one finger touching his forehead as she'd slinked over to him. _"It is a gift.  And one you've been taught to use responsibly.  It's one thing for a brainless brute to let himself go, but someone like you?  Oh, my sweet… What a beautiful hurricane you would be."_

 

With a growl of frustration, Kisuke tossed his covers aside and got off his futon, stomping out into the communal room to get dressed.  He was in desperate need of some fresh air. 

 

As he pulled his clothes out of the closet, he heard Fujita groan from the other room.

 

"Mmmhhhmm… Urahara?" he said, his voice raspy from sleep.

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Geez, man, did you not sleep again last night?"

 

Kisuke rolled his eyes as he slipped his top on.  Why was _everyone_ always so bothered by his sleeping habits?  "I slept.  Just happened to wake up early," he said.

 

"What time is it?"

 

"Six thirty."

 

There was a brief swishing sound, then the patter of feet against the tatami mats and Fujita stepped out of their shared bedroom, his short red hair askew, his brown eyes barely open.  "You goin' out?"

 

"Might as well.  Not worth it, going back to sleep for only half an hour," Kisuke said, tying up the strings of his dark blue hakama.  "Should be interesting to see what the Mess Hall looks like when I'm not in a rush to get to class and can actually enjoy breakfast.  Wanna come?"

 

Fujita scratched the back of his head, mulling the proposition over.  "Sure, gimme a minute."

 

His suspicion turned out to be correct: breakfast became an enjoyable experience once again, as he and Fujita not only got first pick of the food, but also had the opportunity to watch the battle over the crispy rice portions from an onlooker's point of view.

 

It was around five to eight that Kisuke spotted Hasegawa making her way over to them, looking particularly cheerful.  Fujita's face lit up on sight of her, and Kisuke might have felt a touch of pride for his match-making success if he weren't in a sour mood already.  Having had a slow breakfast had greatly improved matters, but he didn't think he could stomach witnessing the two of them making eyes at each other across the table.

 

All right, so perhaps he might've been a _touch_ envious.

 

However, to his massive relief, Hasegawa didn't seem to be in a flirtatious mood, despite her cheerful disposition and the bounce in her red ponytail.  When she approached their table, she planted her hands against the wood, grinning broadly.  "Did you guys hear?"

 

"Hear what?" Fujita asked.

 

There was a sparkle in Hasegawa's hazel eyes as she leaned forward over the table, her grin conspiratorial.  "They just announced our first outing to the human world!"

 

* * *

 

**FEBRUARY 5 TH, 129 B.H.I., MT. KINUGASA, OUTSKIRTS OF KYŌTO, JAPAN**

 

Almost five hundred meters down the rolling, green hills lay the grand city of Kyōto.  With a population nearing four hundred thousand and a rich, complex history, it made sense that it remained the official capital of Japan even after the Shogunate headquarters had been moved to Edo.

 

As Kisuke stared down at the sprawling city, he found he could think of no other place more fitting for their first foray into the Material World. 

 

"Sōma, Akimichi, Kiriyama: to me."

 

Kisuke turned toward the direction of the voice, seeing one of the four Soul Reapers acting as their guides beckon forward the other three.  Through his gossiping classmates, Kisuke had learned all four were third seats in their respective Divisions, but the silver-haired man seemed to be calling the shots despite being of equal rank with the others.  The fact alone that high-ranked Soul Reapers had been sent to watch over Academy students for Konsō practice was troubling on its own, even more so when taking into account who their de facto leader was:

 

Muguruma Kensei, third seat to Division Eleven.  Extremely strong and very talented in all four Soul Reaper disciplines, he was one of the higher ranks undoubtedly slated to make it to Captain one day.    

 

 _The Quincy situation must be getting serious if that's who they sent to babysit us,_ Kisuke thought, knowing that earlier graduates had always been accompanied by either senior Academy students or Instructors.

 

As the four Soul Reapers conversed in a circle, Kisuke's gaze drifted over to Yoruichi who stood by his side, and he smiled at the hungry look in her eyes as she looked upon the city below.  In all honesty, he had expected her to be doing cartwheels around their group upon arrival, but despite the clear enthusiasm in her look, there was a hint of regret in there.    

 

"Disappointed it's not, say, Osaka?" Kisuke said, thinking of the famous port.  Though the sea was not too far away from Kyōto, it wasn't visible from their current vantage point. 

 

"A little," Yoruichi admitted, turning to him.  "But that's okay, there will be other outings.  Besides, this place is plenty interesting as it is; I mean, it's the capital!  I was up reading about it last night."  The bounce in her pose made it crystal clear she was itching to share everything she had learned.

 

 "Go on, then," Kisuke said, deciding to indulge her.

 

"Okay," Yoruichi said, grinning from ear-to-ear.  "So you know how Chinese geomancy was used to select ancient capitals?"

 

"Vaguely."

 

"The main idea is that in order for an area to be considered auspicious, it should be protected by mountains on three sides, while the south should be a plain to provide an opening for light, preferably also containing bodies of water," Yoruichi explained.  "It was believed that when an area forms that horseshoe shape, all four directional gods will be in balance.  Older capitals of Japan do follow that rule, like Nara and Fujiwara-Kyō and so does Kyōto, see?"

 

Yoruichi pointed at the green mountains he had taken notice of before.  As they stood on the hills overlooking the north part of the city, it was easy to see what she meant: far in the distance, he could see that the south was the only part of the city leading to an open plain.

 

"Some centuries later, the Japanese altered that theory a little," Yoruichi went on.  "Claiming that the best-chosen location should have a mountain to the north, a river to the east, a structure to the west, and a plain to the south," she said, beckoning him closer.

 

When Kisuke approached her, she grabbed hold of his arms and positioned him right where she had been a moment ago, then came up to stand in front of him.  When she pointed at the city, Kisuke understood why she'd adjusted his location: her left arm was now aligned with the trajectory of his eyes.

 

"There's the hill in the city, Mt. Funaoka, representing Genbu," she said. 

 

It was a little difficult to pay attention when they stood so close together.  He had but to take half a step forward and her back would be touching his chest, though the true challenge was not letting his eyes stray down –for a second time- to the collar of her shirt, where a hint of her shoulder was exposed.  The jasmine scent emanating from her hair was not helping matters.    

 

Kisuke forced himself to focus on her words, following her index finger toward Mt. Funaoka.  Calling it a mountain was somewhat of a stretch, but the green hill rising at the north of the grid-like city was a distinguishing landmark, indeed. 

 

"The structure could either be the San'indo or the San'yodo highway, or even the canal in the middle, so that's got Byakko covered," Yoruichi said.  "To the east, you have the Kamo River to represent Seiryū."

 

The Kamo was large enough to curve around the entire city.  Originating somewhere in the south, where it branched off another, larger river, it ran parallel to the entire east side of Kyōto, coming to an end at the middle of the northern side.  What was strange was the absence of any merchant ships traveling along its length.  There was another river to the far west of the city, but that, too was conspicuously almost empty.  "There's no port, so shouldn't the rivers be used for trade?" he asked.

 

"Katsura River is used sometimes, since it flows all the way down and into Yodo River which reaches Osaka," Yoruichi said, motioning toward the second river.  "But not the Kamo.  It used to be, but the strong current made it difficult to navigate.  About a hundred and sixty years ago, they dug up that canal I mentioned that goes from the south bend of the Kamo straight into the city instead."

 

"Clever," Kisuke said, nodding.  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Yoruichi's lecture had drawn the interest of their classmates as well, though some, like Harada, seemed to be observing _them_ rather than the city.  Kisuke tried to ignore the stares and turned toward the view again.  On the northeast quadrant of the city, he noticed a large compound that was separated by the rest of the city behind a formidable-looking bulwark.  "Is that the palace over there?" he asked.

 

"It is," Yoruichi said.  "It's supposed to have thirteen gates total along the perimeter."

 

"Beats _your_ paltry ten," Kisuke said with a grin, referring to the gates back at Shihōin castle.

 

Yoruichi stuck her tongue out at him, thought she was also grinning.  " _Anyway_ , that just leaves the south—"

 

"The abode of Suzaku, the Vermilion Bird," Kisuke finished for her, listing the fourth and last god.

 

"Yup.  Open plain, lots of bodies of water," Yoruichi said, pointing in turn at the south bend of the Kamo, as well as the lakes far in the distance.  "I think it's Lake Ogura that's meant to represent him.  It's too bad we didn't open a portal to the south when coming in; there's supposed to be a beautiful shrine somewhere down south, actually head shrine to Inari.  Would've liked to see it, even from afar," she said, sighing gently.  "But anyway, this is it: the story behind why the highly auspicious Uda village became Heian-Kyō, more colloquially known as Kyōto, and has remained the capital for almost a thousand years.  Here endeth the lesson."

 

Kisuke could only smile at the proud expression on her face, genuinely surprised to have enjoyed her brief historical and cultural lesson so much.  It seemed that Professor Endo's torturously boring classes had made him forget how pleasant the subject could be in the right hands.

 

Yoruichi looked at him over her shoulder, apparently misreading his expression.  "You're not the only one who reads, you know," she said, though she didn't look offended.

 

"I _do_ know that," Kisuke said.  "I was just thinking that history class would be far more interesting if it was taught by Professor Shihōin, instead."

 

Yoruichi laughed at his comment, a hint of a blush on her cheeks as she broke into a pleased smile. 

 

"What's that landmark over there?" he asked her, pointing at a mountain toward the east, where he could only barely make out a giant shape on its surface, as though someone had deliberately carved out parts of the forest.

 

Yoruichi squinted at the mountain for a second, before recognition spread on her face.  "Oh, that would be Mt. Daimonji," she said.  "It's one of the five locations in the area that are used in the summer during the O-Bon festival –the Buddhist festival in honor of the ancestors, that is.  They are all lit up, so if you were looking at it at night during the festival, you'd see a big, orange bonfire spelling out the character for 'large.' "

 

"I know I called you _Professor_ Shihōin, but you don't have to explain every little thing," Kisuke said, taunting her.  "I know what the O-Bon festival is."

 

"Okay, okay—"

 

"Though the part about bonfires being orange was _highly_ educational.  For too long have I gone through life thinking they were, say, _blue_ instead—"

 

As Yoruichi tried to elbow him, feigning offense at his comment, Kisuke chuckled, wracking his brains trying to come up with more follow-up questions, not willing to move away.  Before he had the chance to ask any, however, the brief meeting between the four Soul Reapers ended, and their class was asked to gather up for instructions.

 

"All right, listen up," Muguruma said.  "We'll be splitting in two groups.  Group One will head to the east along Kamo River and group Two will take the west side along Katsura River.  Now, I know this is your first time out in the human world, but it's broad daylight, and we need to move carefully to avoid detection.  Stick to your group leaders and no showing off: you're not here to impress anyone.  Any questions?"

 

No hands rose in the air.

 

Muguruma rolled his eyes.  "Later on, when you _will_ have questions, direct them at your group leaders," he said.  "For group One, that's Sōma Jūbei and Akimichi Hiroaki over here," he said, pointing at the two men on his right.  "For the second group, that would be myself, Muguruma Kensei, and Kiriyama Sakura," he said, now pointing at the woman to his left.  "Ikeda to Matsuda, you're with group One.  The rest of you, you're with us.  We rendezvous back here at dusk to return to Soul Society."

 

The class split into two clusters of eight, the assigned Soul Reapers pairing up with their respective group.  Kisuke caught Yoruichi's eye as she headed off with Muguruma's team, giving her a wave.  Yoruichi waved back just as one of her friends, Kikuchi Yōko, descended on her, looking ecstatic.

 

"Yesssssss, we got the hot one!" Kikuchi whispered at Yoruichi, grasping her by the arm and carting her off toward their group.

 

Kisuke sauntered over to Harada's side along with the rest of his six classmates, listening to Sōma and Akimichi as they explained the basics of Konsō, the ritual of sending Plus spirits to Soul Society.  Kisuke noted that they made no mention of the possibility that they might encounter spirits that would be sent to Hell instead.  He decided not to ask any questions despite his interest, knowing the subject would make many of his classmates uneasy.  Sōma and Akimichi reiterated the importance of staying out of sight, informing them that they were looking for isolated human settlements on the outskirts of the city for them to practice in.

 

"I don't get it," whispered Ikeda Kaito.  "Why didn't they just bring us here at night when it would've been easier to avoid detection?"

 

"Smaller chance of Hollows showing up," Kisuke said.  "They prefer the dark: more opportunities to hide if they're lucky enough to come across rookie Soul Reapers who fail to detect their presence."  Not that a few rogue Hollows would be a match for third seat officers, Kisuke mused, but it was clear the Thirteen had their hands full enough with Quincies as it was; adding Hollows into the equation was only going to make this outing an even bigger nuisance, especially since the constant postponing had drawn the ire of the first year students.

 

Sōma and Akimichi ended the briefing by reiterating the plan for the day's training exercise: they were to move alongside the Kamo, ideally giving each student a chance to practice Konsō twice, then head back to the Mt. Kinugasa meeting point for departure.

 

"It's a shame we won't get to stop by a ryokan on the way back," Harada whispered to Kisuke.

 

"Why would we?"

 

"So you and the _Professor_ can get a room."

 

Kisuke let out a sigh as Harada snorted.  "How long have you been waiting to say this?" he drawled.

 

"Nine whole minutes."

 

As their group made its way across the hills running parallel to the Kamo, Kisuke tried not to dwell on Harada's words.  He was certain Harada had meant no ill with his teasing, but it did bring to light something Kisuke had deliberately avoided considering: how his interactions with Yoruichi looked to outsiders. It didn't particularly matter to him what third parties made of their relationship, but it _would_ matter to Yoruichi's parents, should rumors begin to develop.  The sense of freedom that came with being away from the watchful eye of their families had made them both bold, perhaps far bolder than would be considered appropriate by anyone else.  He resolved to show a little more care in his public behavior in the future, wanting above all else to avoid a second alienation with Yoruichi, much like the one he had allowed to happen during their younger years.

 

His thoughts were brought to an end when Akimichi announced they had found a suitable settlement, where they could detect the presence of Plus spirits.  Overall, the process took far longer than it might have within city walls: the settlements were small and some contained no wandering spirits, but entering the city in broad daylight would have definitely resulted in unwanted attention.  Kisuke had to wonder whether the four Soul Reapers present were even capable of performing a Memory Wipe, should the need arise; the spell, when done correctly, was far too advanced for someone of their level.

 

They were down to the fifth settlement when Sōma gathered the group, calling their names one by one to check if they had all managed to get at least two turns in.  Matsuda Rei, Yoruichi's roommate, was the last one on the register.

 

"All right, and Matsuda makes eight," Sōma said, crossing off her name from the list he was carrying.  "Good job, everyone.  Dooooon't get too comfortable," he said, as some of Kisuke's classmates took seats on the grass to catch their breaths.  "I know, we've been moving non-stop for hours, but we have to head back immediately."

 

At the sound of groans from the crowd, Akimichi spoke up, giving them a placatory gesture.  "We'll take a few short breaks along the way, but it _is_ best we keep a brisk pace going," he said.

 

"Ugh, my feet are _killing_ me," Harada said, stretching out next to Kisuke.

 

Kisuke decided to mimic him, sheathing his sword and stretching out his legs.  They had a long trip ahead of them, having traveled far beyond the half-way point, now somewhere near the southern bend of the Kamo; it would take them at least an hour to reach Mt. Kinugasa, and only if they moved non-stop.

 

"Think about a nice, long bath once we get back," Kisuke told him, already picturing himself submerged in the hot waters of the men's bathhouse at the dorms.  "That's what keeps me going."

 

Harada let out a moan of longing at the sound of that and sheathed his weapon, following Kisuke as he approached Sōma and Akimichi. 

 

The return trip was significantly slower, but true to their word, the two Soul Reapers kept them pressing on ahead with only very short two-minute breaks in between.  On every stop, one of the two would move on ahead to a more elevated spot, standing on guard.  This time it was Akimichi's turn.  No sooner had the group of eight students all but collapsed on the ground, massaging aching calves and taking long gulps of water from their canteens, than Akimichi dropped down from his perch off a tall ginkgo tree, hurrying over to whisper something to Sōma.  It was very subtle, but Kisuke saw the shift in Sōma's expression as Akimichi relayed the message to him.  He gave his colleague a nod, then turned to their group.

 

"Guys, I'm sorry to do this, but we have to hurry," he said, motioning at them to get up.  "Akimichi just spotted a code green from the west, which means group Two must be closing in on the rendezvous point."   

 

His statement was met with a round of complaints, but Sōma was having none of it, insisting that they regroup at once and resume traveling.

 

"Fuck's sake; like it'll kill Muguruma if he waits for ten minutes?" Harada grumbled.  "Honestly, this whole day has been—"

 

"Harada—" Kisuke began.

 

"Yeah, yeah, I'll shut up—"

 

"No, it's just…  Keep your wits about you, okay?" Kisuke told him.

 

"What's with the serious face?"

 

"There _is_ no code green," Kisuke said, his eyes locked on Sōma and Akimichi.  The two men had been trained to hide their distress well, but Sōma's slip-up meant that he had been seriously thrown by whatever it was Akimichi had told him.

 

"……Shit," Harada said, his face growing paler.

 

"Yeah.  Don't spread it around," Kisuke warned him, as they gathered up to the front for departure.  "They're clearly trying to keep everyone calm.  But do be careful."

 

Even though Sōma's mistake had been missed by most, the atmosphere in the group was decidedly different as they leapt across the hilltops.  Kisuke's classmates hadn't failed to notice the highly unorthodox, strict rules for something as simple as their first outing, and it was making them all uneasy.  Perhaps some of them had even picked up on the presence following them for the past three minutes.

 

 _Must be what troubled Akimichi,_ Kisuke thought.  The spiritual energy of their pursuer was radically different to anything Kisuke had felt before.  His textbook contained descriptions of all types of known spiritual energy, but this wasn't exactly something that could be taught from books alone.  Human spiritual pressure was present everywhere in the vicinity, and their pursuer was definitely not human.  _Close though,_ he thought.  _A Quincy, then?_  

 

Whether Quincy or Hollow, the mysterious presence didn't make itself known, keeping its distance.  Kisuke noticed Akimichi, who now brought up the rear, kept throwing glances over his shoulder behind them.  Perhaps he was considering engaging the presence, but he kept his position, every now and then meeting Sōma's eye as the two communicated wordlessly from a distance. 

 

It was during such a silent conversation that Kisuke saw Akimichi's eyes suddenly go very round.  "Jūbei!  One o' clock!" he yelled.

 

Up to the front, Sōma turned around just in time to dodge the bright blue arrow that whistled past his ear.  Akimichi swiveled on the spot, turning around to face the original pursuer, but the presence that had been following them suddenly disappeared, its spiritual signature showing up at the front of the group, joining the attacker.  Neither of the Quincies –for it was clear now what they were- stayed visible, but Kisuke could feel them near-by, in hiding, no doubt waiting for the opportune moment to ambush them again.

 

Panic rippled through their small group within the blink of an eye, most of Kisuke's classmates in a daze as to what had just happened.

 

Akimichi and Sōma gave no explanations, simply shared a look.  Akimichi nodded at his colleague, turning to the group as Sōma unsheathed his sword at the front.

 

"Everyone on me," Akimichi said.  "We're heading back."

 

"W-what?" Ikeda said, already breaking out in sweat.  "H-hold on, what just—?"

 

" _NOW_ ," Akimichi said, grabbing him by the collar and speeding away, the rest of the class on his heels even as they voiced their concerns.

 

"Wait a minute!" said Ueno Tsubasa, her face determined despite the tremor in her voice.  "What about Sōma?  We can't just—!"

 

"We can and we will," Akimichi said, moving to the center of the group, muttering under his breath what Kisuke recognized as a spell incantation.  "Bakudō number seventy three, Tozanshō!" he said when the incantation was over, bringing his hands together.  Out of his joined palms there was an eruption of blue light and four slim beams rose up around them, forming an inverted pyramid.  As soon as the shape was locked in place, all four sides of the pyramid emitted a strong glow, solidifying the barrier now surrounding them.  It soon dissolved into near-nothingness, leaving behind only a faint ripple in the air that gave away its existence.    

 

"We're just going to leave him behind?" Ueno said, glancing over her shoulder as their group advanced forward, putting more and more distance between them and the site of the ambush.

 

"Jūbei—" Akimichi began, pursing his lips.  "Sōma was prepared for this.  We all were.  Now be quiet and all of you, stay on your guard.  You see or hear the slightest thing, you report it and let _me_ handle it.  I want no heroics from any of you, understood?"

 

It would be difficult to leave the group right now even if they wished to; the barrier Akimichi had cast took care of that.  Kisuke understood Akimichi's order to be a blanket statement instead, covering all possibilities in the near future. 

 

"Yes, sir," they all said in unison.  

 

Though he didn't voice the thought out loud, Kisuke had the feeling they had made a grave mistake in splitting up.  Not only because he feared for Sōma's well-being, but also because it felt as though they were allowing the Quincies to set the pace, playing right into their trap.  Two archers operating in stealth could have easily incapacitated the two strongest in their group, leaving them to deal with eight highly inexperienced and easy targets.  Instead, they had chosen to make their presence known and had retreated after the first ambush, succeeding in separating their two most dangerous opponents.

 

Kisuke had a feeling both Sōma and Akimichi knew this, but had been instructed to make the safety of the Academy students their first priority.  He only hoped it wasn't about to get them all killed.  Especially now that the Quincy seemed to have split up as well.

 

"Sir?" Kisuke said, approaching Akimichi.  "I think—"

 

"Yeah, I felt him, too," Akimichi said, frowning.  Cursing under his breath, he glanced down below, then turned to the group.  "Prepare for descent," he said, pointing at a small human settlement.  "I'm opening a portal and getting you the hell out of here."

 

Following Akimichi's instructions, the group sped toward the ground, coming to a stop in an open field.  There were no signs of human life nearby; judging by the few, abandoned shacks in the vicinity and the patches of dry, dug up earth, it might have been a farm once, before its residents had left the area.

 

"Indoors, quick," Akimichi said, ushering them toward the nearest shack.

 

The nine of them sprinted toward the woebegone structure, the atmosphere in the group shifting dramatically from despair to hope.

 

"What about the second group?" Matsuda said as they approached the entrance.  "Shouldn't we meet up with hem?"

 

"We don't know what their situation might be," Kisuke said, realizing with a sinking feeling, that there was a very good possibility Yoruichi's group was currently engaged in a similar conflict.

 

"Exactly," Akimichi said.  "So—"

 

He never got a chance to finish his sentence, as the door to the shack was suddenly pushed open from the inside.  Eight bodies nearly crashed against Akimichi's back as he came to an immediate stop, drawing his weapon.  Out of the darkness in the building, out walked a tall, slender man clad in white, a bow of blue energy glowing between his poised arms.  There was no mistaking his spiritual pressure; he was the one who had goaded their group into the ambush earlier on.

 

"I only wish to talk," the dark-haired Quincy said, though he made no move to lower his weapon.

 

Akimichi said nothing, simply held his free arm out to signal the group to stay behind him.

 

"Tell me where Muguruma Kensei is and no-one needs to get hurt," the Quincy said.

 

 _Muguruma?  They're looking for him?  Is that why they haven't shot to kill yet?_   Kisuke watched both the Quincy and Akimichi carefully, trying to decipher what might have transpired with Akimichi's colleague.  Akimichi didn't flinch or otherwise react to the information in any way, holding his sword out in front of him and clearly deep in concentration.  Kisuke had to wonder whether he was simply that well-trained and cool under pressure, or if the Quincy's request hadn't been a surprise.

 

Whichever the case, it didn't seem as though Akimichi was willing to say anything.  Slowly, he stepped forward and through the blurry outline of the barrier he had cast on the group a few minutes ago. 

 

The Quincy watched him with a measure of wariness, the arms forming his bow perfectly steady.  "You won't talk?" he said.  "Have it your way, then."

 

An arrow flew off his bow, hurtling through the air toward the group of students, but Akimichi was already there, deflecting it with a powerful swing of his weapon.  Not giving the Quincy time to prepare a second arrow, he Flashed Stepped forward to attack, but the Quincy dodged in time, vanishing and reappearing behind the group in a movement so reminiscent of Flash Steps that Kisuke knew he wasn't the only one among his peers who had to do a double-take.

 

Akimichi followed suit, and as the two engaged in a game of cat and mouse, with the Quincy trying to gain enough distance to fire his weapon to better effect, Kisuke watched carefully.  The Quincy's speed was impressive enough that it was difficult to follow his movements with ease, but having been Yoruichi's sparring partner for so long had allowed Kisuke to train his eyes to keep up with such agility. 

 

What was interesting was that whereas a Soul Reaper engaged his own spiritual flow when Flash Stepping, forcing the particles to move at a speed higher than normal, the Quincy equivalent was the exact opposite, much like their powers; he could see that the Quincy was manipulating a flow of spiritual particles below his feet, riding it to the desired destination.   

 

Akimichi rolled out of the way of a hastily-fired arrow, and it was then that Kisuke knew the fight was over: before the Quincy could react, Akimichi Flash Stepped right in front of him, a yellow sphere of crackling energy glowing on his left hand.  "Hadō number sixty three, Raikōhō!" he said, his arm connecting with the Quincy's midsection.

 

The Quincy went flying through the air, coming to a stop only when his back met with the trunk of a tree.  His body, now blackened throughout the front, slumped down to the ground, where he moved no more.  Losing no time, Akimichi sheathed his blade and ran back to the group, panting.

 

Though the rest of the student group seemed to be not only relieved at the turn of events, but elated, Harada accosted Akimichi as soon as he approached them, to everyone's shock.

 

"What was all this about Muguruma?" he asked.

 

Wiping the sweat of his brow, Akimichi glared at him.  "None of your concern.  Get inside—"

 

"He did something to them, didn't he?"

 

"For heaven's sake, what does it _matter_?" Kaneko said, looking at Harada as though he had gone insane.  "Let's just get out of here before—"

 

"Right, of course," Harada said, rolling his eyes at Kaneko.  "What does it matter if Soul Society has been mistreating Quincies for centuries and now _we're_ paying the price?"

 

"Shut up, Harada," Yoshida growled at him, following Akimichi toward the shack.

 

"In case you haven't noticed," Kaneko shot back.  "It was the Quincies who attacked _us_ today."

 

"In case _you_ haven't noticed," Harada said.  "They didn't want to hurt anyone other than Muguruma.  And honestly, could you blame them even if they did?  We nearly exterminated them, we erased their history, we've been stomping all over them for—"

 

"SHUT _UP_ , HARADA!" Yoshida said.

 

Pushing the front door of the shack open, Akimichi whipped his head around toward them, looking exhausted and furious.  " _All_ of you, shut—"

 

Kisuke didn't need to see the look in Akimichi's widened eyes to know something was wrong; he had felt it himself, just now: the spiritual signature that had disappeared only moments ago had just resurfaced. 

 

Looking over his shoulder, Kisuke saw the Quincy, now crouched down by the tree, an arrow already formed.  If it weren't for the tell-tale spiritual pressure, however, Kisuke wasn't certain he would have recognized him: the man's skin had suddenly and inexplicably darkened, while a network of interconnected lines stood out against it, still white in color.  It looked a lot like a human's circulatory system – _No, not a lot like. That is **exactly** what it is.  What in the name of—?_   Though he couldn't tell what was happening within the Quincy's body, Kisuke could feel the blindingly strong pulse of spiritual particles brimming just below the man's skin.  There was a shift, and the particles suddenly collapsed.

 

Akimichi must've sensed it as well.  "Everybody down!" he yelled, holding his right hand out to the side.  A burst of yellow energy surrounded his hand, and Akimichi drew a mid-air triangle, the three points glowing brightly before forming into three small pyramids of light.  "Bakudō number thirty, Shitotsu Sansen!"

 

It was an expertly cast, well-chosen spell, but it was too little too late.  Kisuke could only gape at the arrow that left the Quincy's bow, swifter and immeasurably stronger than the one before.  The second it hit their protective barrier, time seemed to stop, the moment stretching on infinitely as the air before Kisuke's eyes rippled.  There was a peculiar sensation, a feeling of being gripped somewhere behind the navel and being yanked away, and then everything went dark.

 

When he came to, uncertain of what had happened or how long he had even been unconscious, Kisuke momentarily thought he had been kidnapped: having awoken in an unfamiliar environment, his first assumption was that the Quincy had rounded up any survivors to use as leverage.  Suddenly, Kaneko came into his field of vision, kneeling down next to him, opening and closing her mouth soundlessly. 

 

Kisuke winced at the shrill, piercing sound violating his ears as he tried to rise up to his elbows.

 

"…righ…?"

 

Though she was covered in dirt and a few scrapes, Kaneko seemed to be otherwise unhurt.  She helped him sit upright as the shrillness in his ears intensified, and it was then that Kisuke began to suspect he hadn't found himself in foreign environment after all.

 

"Kisuke, are you all right?"  Kaneko reiterated, her voice still muffled but becoming clearer every second.

 

The smoking debris surrounding them were the remnants of the shack, he realized.  The building had partly collapsed, dust, rotten wood and stone strewn about everywhere, along with –most horrifyingly- about half a dozen bodies.

 

"KISUKE!"

 

Turning to Kaneko, Kisuke blinked a few times, shaking his head as the shrillness intensified for a moment before disappearing entirely.  "I'm okay," he said.  He could feel and move every one of his limbs, there was no severe pain other than a general ache in his body and his mind was clear.  "What… what happened?"

 

"I… I think the Quincy's arrow shattered the barrier," she said.  "It didn't hit us directly, but the pieces of the barrier ricocheted around and everyone was tossed left and right.  The falling building did the rest.  I managed to slip out of the barrier just in time, dragged Yoshida with me.  I tried to get Harada but I didn't have a good enough grip and he slipped out of my hand at the explosion."

 

"Where _is_ Yoshida?" Kisuke asked.

 

"Outside, with Tsubasa," Kaneko said.  "Akimichi's spell trapped the Quincy, but he's still alive, so—"

 

Before she could finish her sentence, Kisuke scrambled up on his feet, feeling his body protest at the sudden movement, but he paid it no mind.  Stumbling across the debris, nearly slipping a few times, he made for the exit and stepped out onto the grass just in time to see Yoshida and Ueno approaching the Quincy.  Akimichi's spell had worked all right: now pinned down by three pyramids of light against the tree trunk, the Quincy was temporarily out of commission, his arms and midsection pinioned tightly, but he was still very much conscious.

 

"STOP!" Kisuke yelled at Yoshida and Ueno, just as Yoshida drew his sword.

 

They both turned around to look at the direction of the scream, looking startled for a moment.  Kisuke motioned at them to come back, but Yoshida ignored him, shifting his attention back to the Quincy.

 

 _You fucking **tool** ,_ Kisuke thought, gritting his teeth as he immediately went into a Flash Step.  Appearing right behind them, he gripped Yoshida by the scruff of the neck and Ueno by the waist and Flashed away again, taking them back inside the half-collapsed building.

 

As soon as he was on solid ground, Yoshida rounded up on him, the hand holding his sword shaking with fury.  "What the _HELL,_ Urahara?" he said.  "That bastard is still alive!"

 

"Yes, and he was also alive after taking a direct hit from a Hadō in the sixties," Kisuke said.  "You _saw_ what he can do.  He has some sort of ability that can enhance _both_ his defense and his attack; that second arrow was far too overpowered, it shattered a level seventy Bakudō."

 

"Oh, so what, we're just going to leave him out there, sitting pretty when he damn near killed us all?" Yoshida shot back.  "Or are we just waiting until Akimichi's spell wears off so he can come back and finish the job?"

 

"None of us can take him on," Kisuke said very slowly and clearly, trying to get the full meaning of his words across.  "Your sword won't even make a dent on him and neither will mine or anyone else's.  The best thing we can do right now is take everyone we can carry and move out."

 

"And go _where_?" Yoshida said.

 

Kisuke ran a hand through his hair, sighing.  Though Ueno hadn't voiced any displeasure, he could tell that she agreed with Yoshida, judging by the look in her dark eyes and the way she toyed with her brown, shoulder-length hair.  Even Kisuke had to admit that Yoshida had a point.  _Think, think,_ Kisuke said to himself, his eyes traveling over the five bodies lined up next to each other on the floor.  Kaneko had moved them all out of the debris and was now checking them for any severe injuries.  Kisuke could feel that all five were alive, though unconscious, but some of them required immediate medical attention.

 

"Look, I…" Kaneko said, as she looked up from Harada's prone body.  "While I agree that it might be a risk to try and take out the Quincy, what choice do we have?  There's only four of us, Akimichi is out cold, we don't have the faintest clue what's happening with the other team, and even if we try to escape while carrying five bodies, we are completely unfamiliar with the terrain."

 

 _The other team… Yoruichi would know where to go,_ Kisuke thought, hoping she wasn't trapped in a similar situation.  _She probably knows the area by heart, she might kn—_

 

"The shrine," Kisuke said, his eyes widening.   

 

"The what?" Kaneko said.

 

"There's a shrine south of the city," Kisuke said, recalling Yoruichi's short lecture up at Mt. Kinugasa –had that really been only a couple of hours ago?  She had mentioned a shrine to Inari, lamenting the fact that she wouldn't be able to visit.  Given their current location, it shouldn't be too far away.

 

"How do you even kn—?" Yoshida began.

 

"No, I… I think he's right," Ueno said.  "I heard Yoruichi telling him."

 

Yoshida turned to Ueno, frowning a little before looking at Kisuke again.  "A shrine?"

 

"Head shrine to Inari, in fact," Kisuke said.  "The Quincies are still humans, aren't they?  Perhaps they won't wish to incur Inari's wrath by attacking someone seeking refuge in his temple."  _Patron saint of fertility, agriculture, industry, and more importantly sake.  They'd be pretty much screwed if they angered him._   "And there is a good chance there will be visitors in the shrine aside from priests."

 

"This is… a gamble," Yoshida said, having calmed down considerably, but still looking unsold on the idea.

 

"So is trying to take on the Quincy," Kisuke said.  "Everyone, take one body each.  I'm taking Harada and Akimichi.  And try to minimize your spiritual pressure output.  We don't want to leave a clear trail for the Quincy when he manages to disentangle himself.  Kaneko takes the front, I'll stay in the rear."

 

Flash Stepping with the added weight of at least one unconscious body each was no easy task: it was why Kisuke had insisted on carrying both Harada and Akimichi, as he was normally able to travel the longest distance out of the four.  When they had put what he felt was enough space between them and the Quincy, Kisuke called out to his three classmates to switch to normal travel, wanting to conserve their energy.  Ueno, being one of the more talented of the class in Flash Stepping, hadn't broken a sweat, but Kaneko and Yoshida seemed to be grateful for the change of pace, despite their evident apprehension that the Quincy could already be in pursuit.  Kisuke couldn't feel any presence in the vicinity, but given how well-trained the Quincy seemed to be in hiding his spiritual pressure, he couldn't discount the possibility that they were being followed.

 

As they glided over the hills, something in the distance caught Kisuke's attention.  A hint of bright vermillion, almost orange, standing out in stark contrast to the deep green, lush forests.  At the front of their diamond-shaped formation, Kaneko let out a gasp, turning to look at him over her shoulder.  "Aren't Inari's temples usually—?"

 

"Vermilion," Kisuke said, nodding.  "We're here."

 

As they pressed on, advancing toward the temple, Kisuke could see them clearly, the trademark vermilion gates, the torii.  In between the many hunter green roofs of the complex, the countless torii stood out like an orange serpent, lining up the winding paths cutting through the forest and leading up the hill from one individual shrine to the other.  Though the area wasn't as packed with humans as he had hoped, Kisuke could feel their presence everywhere, the largest concentration within the biggest building in the complex.  At the top of the hill overlooking a small lake stood a lone shrine, where Kisuke could detect no spiritual pressure nearby, human or otherwise.

 

"There," he called out to the group, pointing at the shrine.  "Let's take a short break and regroup." 

 

Kisuke landed on the paved ground before the structure with a thud, his peers following suit.  "Anyone feel anything?" Kisuke asked as they all warily checked their surroundings.

 

The shrine itself was quite small; it would only barely fit all nine bodies, but Kisuke wasn't planning on making this a long visit anyway.  Surrounding the oratory was a fence identical in color to the vermilion torii.  The lake spread out behind it, just a small pond enclosed within the thick forest.  On the bank right across the shrine, the forest appeared to be thinning somewhat, but upon closer inspection, Kisuke realized it was actually a bamboo grove.  As far as he could tell, there was no-one hiding out there. 

 

Kisuke turned to examine the oratory again.  There was a large, polished wooden sign on the gable at the entrance, its golden letters reading _Kumataka-sha_ , the name of the shrine.  Long stalks of rice had been hung all across the molding, ears-down, as an offering to Inari.  Right by the entrance there was a sculpture of twin foxes, the _kitsune_ , both holding a granary key in their mouths each, their fronts adorned with a yodarekake, the red votive bib.

 

There was still no sign of any foreign spiritual pressure, though the closest humans weren't too far away, Kisuke noted, glancing toward the path leading down from the shrine.  Though they would probably remain invisible to any passing human, if anyone held a greater chance at spiritual sensitivity, that would probably be a priest.

 

"All right, we appear to be safe for now," Kisuke said.  "Let's take a look at them," he said, entering the shrine with Harada and Akimichi slumped over his back.

 

The inside of the shrine was mostly empty space to allow for a small number of visitors.  In the far back was the altar, carrying a great number of black candlestick holders that held white candles in various states: others molten down to thick white stubs, others tall, their lights flickering in the breeze.  Six kitsune statues stood on a three-level platform behind the altar, one pair for every level, all of them watching over the shrine with their clever, almond-shaped eyes, their teeth bared.

 

Kisuke glanced at them once, not quite hoping for literal protection, but trusting they would at least act as a deterrent to their pursuer.  He placed Harada and Akimichi on the floor, massaging his aching shoulders as Kaneko, Ueno and Yoshida carefully deposited the bodies they had been carrying as well.

 

"Matsuda got the worst of it," Kisuke said.  He could feel her essence flickering like the candles on the altar, holding on to life but slipping with every passing second.  "I think she may be hemorrhaging internally.  Akimichi's leg should probably be looked at as well, but it's secondary.  Everyone else should be fine for now."

 

"I don't—" Kaneko said, watching Matsuda warily and swallowing hard.  "I… I'm not sure I can do anything for Rei…"

 

"Can you keep trying to restore her spiritual pressure?" Kisuke asked.  "It'll help even if we can't address the physical problem directly."

 

Kaneko nodded somewhat tremulously, but held her hands over Matsuda's body all the same, her palms now glowing with green energy.     

 

"Okay, listen," Yoshida said.  "Coming here was a good idea and all, but shouldn't we move somewhere with a crowd?  This shrine up here is pretty isolated."

 

"We will," Kisuke said.  "As soon as we restore some of Matsuda's strength."

 

" _Then_ what do we do?" Ueno asked.  "I… I was thinking on the way here… I know we don't know what the status of the second group is, but shouldn't we try to contact them in some way?  At least one of us—"

 

"I'm not sending anyone out there alone," Kisuke said.  He regretted his abruptness, not wanting Ueno to think he was brushing off her proposition without any thought, but if the day's events had taught them anything, it was that splitting up was a terrible idea.

 

"You wouldn't be _sending_ me, I'd be _going_ on my own," Ueno said, surprising him with the sudden fire in her voice; she was normally very soft-spoken and timid.

 

"Whoa, whoa, hold on," Yoshida said.  "If anyone's going, it should be either me or him."

 

"Oh sure, great idea, let's send our best fighter away," Ueno snapped at Yoshida, motioning toward Kisuke.  "More to the point, I wasn't aware that the _honor_ of going on a solo mission is reserved only for those in possession of a dick."  

 

"I… I didn't mean…" Yoshida spluttered, looking partly scandalized and partly impressed at her words. 

 

"All right, all right," Kisuke interjected, holding up both hands.  "Let's calm down.  Ueno, I _honestly_ don't think it's a good idea to split up.  Doesn't matter if it's you, or Yoshida; not a single one of us holds a chance against a Quincy of that level on our own."

 

"I know it's a risk, but we can't afford to just sit here!" Ueno said, looking resolute.  "If I can reach the other team and it turns out they're also in trouble, well, big deal, no change in _my_ situation.  But if they're not, and they can come help us…"

 

Kisuke sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and shutting his eyes.  She made a good point, but the problem wasn't so much what she would face when she met up with the other team, it was whether she'd reach the other team period.  What if they were already at the Mt. Kinugasa meeting point, miles and miles away?  Not only would her trip be futile, she would undoubtedly come across at least one Quincy straggler and that would be it.  There was only one way to signal the other team that he could think of, but it had only been a fleeting thought and a completely insane one at that.

 

_Then again, given our situation, I'd say sanity has long ago flown out the window._

 

Kisuke opened his eyes, looking at Kaneko.  "How are you holding up?" he asked her.

 

Frowning, Kaneko shook her head, beads of perspiration already trickling down her forehead.  "I'm doing the best I can, but… Sooner or later my spiritual power is going to run out and it's taking almost all my concentration just to keep replenishing hers."

 

 _Well, that settles it then._  

 

"All right, Ueno goes."

 

"Urahara—!" Yoshida protested.

 

"She's faster than you and Kaneko put together," Kisuke countered.  "If anyone can pull it off, it's her.  But you're not heading for the group," Kisuke said, turning to Ueno.  "You're heading for Mt. Daimonji."

 

"I— what?"

 

"Even if the other team is still miraculously unscathed and at the south bend of the Katsura, Mt. Daimonji is still closer," Kisuke explained.  "It's back toward the direction we came, probably about a three to five minute trip if you use Flash Steps.  If you go through the forest and keep your spiritual pressure concealed, you should stay undetected."

 

"What would I even do there?" Ueno asked.

 

Slowly, and with as much detail as he could, Kisuke explained it all to her.  By the time he was done, Ueno's resolve seemed to have wavered a little.  "All of this hinges on whether she'll even recognize—"

 

"She will," Kisuke said.  "Now remember what I said.  Keep your jumps nice and long, but don't overdo it, conserve as much power as you can.  Don't waste your energy on _anything_ other than Flash Stepping.  Maybe cast a Sekienton if you get _really_ cornered.   Whether you run into trouble after Mt. Daimonji or not, head for the Katsura and keep traveling along the stream; it's your best chance at finding the other group."

 

"What if she's attacked _before_ getting to Mt. Daimonji?" Yoshida said.

 

"Well, that's what we're about to take care of," Kisuke said.  "I'm sending a clone with you."

 

"You can produce clones?" Ueno said, looking impressed.

 

Referring to them as _clones_ was perhaps stretching the truth to a breaking point, but the name of the technique was _Speed Clones,_ after all.  It was meant to be used by far more experienced practitioners, and his own few attempts at it alongside Yoruichi had proved as much: when done properly, a mediocre execution of the move would produce ten afterimages of the caster, while the more gifted ones could produce up to fifteen or more.  Yoruichi was already capable of maintaining three, as opposed to his sole, pitiful clone.  Still, it was better than nothing.

 

"Don't get too excited," Kisuke told her with a wry grin.  "They don't last long, and a pat on the head will dissolve mine, it's so weak, but it _is_ indistinguishable from a person.  If anyone attacks you, let him draw the fire and get out of there as fast as you can," he said, then turned to Yoshida.  "What's the highest level barrier you can cast?" he asked him.

 

Yoshida winced, rubbing the back of his neck.  "A… Three, I think.  Four if I really concentrate, but it won't be a _good_ Four."

 

 _Better a solid Three than a flimsy Four,_ Kisuke thought.  It wouldn't do much to stop a strong attack outright, but it could still mean the difference between life and death.

 

"Go with a strong Three," Kisuke told him.

 

"If we do it together, I might be able—" Yoshida began.

 

Kisuke shook his head at him.  "Sorry, I should probably conserve as much power as I can," he said, glad to have an honest excuse for not using kidō. 

 

"What for?" Yoshida asked.

 

"Ueno is going to need a distraction."

 

"LIKE HELL!" came Kaneko's shrill cry from the back.  She didn't put a stop to her efforts to keep Matsuda alive, but she was glaring at Kisuke, a mixture of fury and terror in her grey eyes. 

 

"Urahara, she's right; I'm not sure it's a good idea to—" Ueno weighed in, shaking her head at him, but came to a sudden stop when a hint of familiar spiritual pressure rippled through the atmosphere, leaving no more room for debate.

 

"Well.  I trust _that_ got my point across," Kisuke said, looking at the ceiling toward the direction of the advancing Quincy. 

 

Closing his eyes, he concentrated on producing a clone, hoping the attempt wouldn't have the same result all his recent kidō ventures did.  When he opened his eyes again, he was glad to see an only slightly flickering clone of himself standing by Ueno's side. 

 

"Keep your spiritual pressure concealed until I engage him.  Yoshida, cast the barrier as soon as you sense him follow me so Ueno can head out," Kisuke told him.  "If things go south, just grab Kaneko and go, all right?"

 

Yoshida swallowed hard, his jaw set.  He nodded.

 

"And Tsubasa?" Kisuke said, turning to Ueno.  "You'd better fly like the wind."

 

* * *

 

**FEBRUARY 5 TH, 129 B.H.I., SOUTH BEND OF KATSURA RIVER, OUTSKIRTS OF KYŌTO, JAPAN**

 

Yoruichi stretched her legs out on the grass, reaching forward to touch the tips of her toes.  She let out a pleasurable moan as, one by one, the cricks in her spine loosened.  Even though the actual training exercise had been easy, the constant traveling along the river had taken its toll on their group.  Muguruma and Kiriyama had allowed them a short break, but the hard part was just about to begin: heading all the way back to the meeting point.

 

"You got any water?" Yōko asked her, coming to take a seat next to her on the grass.

 

"Yup," Yoruichi said as she stretched, pointing at the backpack laid on the ground next to her.

 

Yōko unfastened it, pulling out Yoruichi's canteen and taking a long drag of water.  She let out a sigh, then let some water drip on her palm and ran in through her loose brown hair.  She quickly gathered it back up in her signature updo, then laid down on the grass to catch her breath.  "Seems like a waste, doesn't it?" she said, her deep blue eyes staring forlornly at the green hills surrounding them.

 

"What does?" Yoruichi asked her.

 

"We came all this way just for some quick training and now we have to head back," Yōko said.  "I mean _look_ at this place!  It's so pretty!"

 

"I know the feeling," Yoruichi said, smiling.

 

"Maybe we could request a longer break," Yōko went on.  "Feign some sort of injury, maybe persuade Muguruma to cozy up with me by the fire," she said, giggling.

 

"What _fire_?" Yoruichi said, chuckling.  "It won't be nightfall for hours."

 

"Well, _they_ don't seem to mind," Yōko said, pointing toward the general direction of the east.

 

"Who's they?"

 

"I don't know… _them_ ," Yōko said, sitting up.  "Whoever lit that giant bonfire."

 

 _Bonfire?_   Frowning, Yoruichi followed the direction Yōko was pointing at.  Surely enough, it was Mt. Daimonji, and there was a fire glowing on its slope, spelling out the character for 'large,' just as she'd described to Kisuke a few hours ago.  Part of her was thrilled to be actually witnessing this event, but it wasn't long before logic kicked in:

 

_It's still February.  Why would they light the bonfire **now**?  And… is that a **blue** fire?  How the hell did humans—_

 

_"Though the part about bonfires being orange was **highly** educational.  For too long have I gone through life thinking they were, say, **blue** instead."_

 

Kisuke's earlier words hit her with the force of a thunderbolt.  It _couldn't_ be a coincidence, could it?  They had only been discussing it that very morning and now it just inexplicably came to be?  She tried to recall whether the book she'd read on Kyōto last night had mentioned anything about bonfires being lit throughout the year, but she was coming up with nothing.  Under different circumstances, the first conclusion she would jump to was that Kisuke was playing a prank on her, acting on his previous words as a means to tease her.  But they were on a strict timetable, under the guidance of superiors; even he wouldn't sneak away to do this just to mess with her.

 

 _But he **is** responsible for this; I **know** he is, _ she thought, knowing exactly what he would say about coincidences were he there.

 

The bonfire was clearly meant to capture _her_ attention, but for what?  What could he possibly be trying to—? 

 

_Oh, Gods._

 

Leaping up onto her feet, Yoruichi sprinted past a bewildered Yōko and headed straight for the patch of grass occupied by Muguruma and Kiriyama.

 

"Sir?  Ma'am?" she said, as she came to a halt before them.

 

Without looking at her, Muguruma waved a hand in her general direction impatiently.  "Not now," he said.  He and Kiriyama appeared to be deep in conversation, both of them staring toward the direction of Mt. Daimonji.

 

"I think I know what that fire on Mt. Daimonji is," Yoruichi said loudly, hoping to get their attention.  "I think it's a signal."

 

It worked.  Both Kiriyama and Muguruma turned to her, the latter looking at her with a touch of skepticism.  "A signal for what?" he asked her.

 

"I… well…  It's not a natural fire, is it?" Yoruichi said.  "It's blue in color, almost purple; it looks an awful lot like kidō to me."

 

"Yes, we figured out as much, surprisingly—"

 

"I was talking about Mt. Daimonji with a classmate on the other team this morning," Yoruichi went on, undeterred.  "He made a joke about a blue fire.  I'm almost certain he's trying to signal me.  He knows I'd remember this.  I think… I think they might be in trouble."

 

Kiriyama glanced at Muguruma, her expression darkening.  "Kensei…"

 

Muguruma gritted his teeth, grasping the front of his hair with a fist.  "This is _exactly_ why I told them it was a bad idea to choose Kyōto," he said.

 

"It's not your fault," Kiriyama said.

 

"Yeah, well…" Muguruma said, letting his hand drop.  "That won't be much of a comfort to those kids if—" He seemed to think better of his chosen words as he looked down at Yoruichi, his expression hardening.  "We appreciate the report.  Go back to your group and let everyone know we're heading out at once."

 

Yoruichi nodded, then turned her heel and walked back toward her classmates, her fists clenched and her gaze resolutely on the ground.  It was clear what Muguruma had been about to say before remembering she was present.  

 

 _It'll be fine,_ she thought, trying to calm herself.  If Kisuke and his group had gotten the chance to signal them, it could only mean they were still alive and well.  At least _some_ of them.  And with Kisuke as the brains of the operation, they had nothing to fear.  He would have thought of _everything_.

 

They were going to be _fine_.  They _had_ to.

_Kisuke would **never** step out without a solid plan.  He'll have thought it through._

 

* * *

  

**FEBRUARY 5 TH, 129 B.H.I., FUSHIMI INARI TAISHA SHRINE, OUTSKIRTS OF KYŌTO, JAPAN**

 

_Fuck, I should've thought this through._

 

Though he had faith in the rest of the plan –given the circumstances they had done all they could to protect Ueno- Kisuke hadn't really formed a strategy for this particular part beyond making the decision to act as a distraction.  There was little time for such luxuries, however, so he resigned himself to the fact that he would have to enter the dreaded realm of improvisation.

 

_All right.  Well… I guess I'd better start by drawing his attention._

 

Heading along the path leading down from the Kumataka-sha shrine, Kisuke kept his focus sharp, trying to pinpoint the location of the Quincy.  Hopefully, with his peers keeping their spiritual pressure to the lowest register they were capable of while his was out in the open, vibrant and inviting, the Quincy would choose to target him.

 

As he ran down the path, Kisuke was relieved to feel the Quincy follow him.  He still didn't have a lock on a position, as his opponent was staying hidden, but he _was_ succeeding in drawing him away from the group.  The path before him split in three and Kisuke, having seen the area from above as they had descended, chose to make a sharp left turn, heading straight for the road lined all the way through with vermilion torii.

 

He sped down the path, the tall gates so closely planted together that it was as though he had entered a brightly colored tunnel leading to the unknown.  To his surprise, he heard thundering footsteps behind him and sensed the Quincy's spiritual signature, hot on his trail.  His elation didn't last long, however, once he realized they were coming up to a straight stretch of road, no turns in sight.

 

_Oh… crap._

 

Kisuke dove down and out of the way of an arrow just in time.  He ignored the shower of splinters that rained over him as the arrow blew apart a fair portion of the gates to his left, and came out of a roll, going straight back to sprinting.  _So much for banking on their reluctance to defile a shrine._ "YOU KNOW, INARI IS KNOWN TO BE A SUPREMELY VENGEFUL GOD!"

 

In response, the Quincy prepped another arrow.  Even without turning around, Kisuke could sense the second one was not going to miss.

 

Clenching his teeth, Kisuke observed the torii on his left as he ran past them, looking for an opening wide enough to fit through, choosing not to wait until the Quincy had attacked to get out of the way.  The second he found it, he slipped through, jumping off the path and down to the hill that led toward the lake.  It was a steep decline, and Kisuke nearly lost his footing a few times as he trekked downward, his sandals getting caught in errant roots and rocks.  When the second shot came, he dove out of the way and behind a tree, flattening himself against the bark.  He tried to take a peek around the trunk, get a better visual of the advancing Quincy and the area, but immediately drew back as a third arrow whistled past him, taking out a sizeable chunk of the tree trunk.

 

Kisuke was about to turn and head for the lake, when he felt the distant ripple of Ueno's spiritual signature in the air.  And so did the Quincy.

 

 _Dammit!_   Kisuke looked up to the sky at the direction of the shrine, only to see Ueno heading out.  He had hoped for more time, hoped to have at least driven the Quincy far enough into the forest that he wouldn't have a visual of her, but there was no helping it now.

 

Abandoning pursuit, the Quincy immediately jumped into the air, clearly realizing Kisuke had been nothing but a distraction.

 

 _Oh no you don't,_ Kisuke said to himself, and without making a conscious decision, he brought his hands forward.  "Disintegrate, you black dog of Rondanini!" he chanted, as a sphere of reddish yellow energy began to form before his outspread palms.  "Look upon yourself with horror and tear out your own throat!  Bakudō number nine, Hōrin!"

 

The sphere expanded and exploded forth toward the direction of the Quincy, changing shape mid-air and becoming elongated, until it morphed into a long tendril of pulsating power.  The far end wrapped itself around the Quincy's middle, trapping him, while the other end remained secure in Kisuke's hand.  It was by far the strongest spell he had ever cast, so powerful he was having real trouble controlling it.

 

 _Well, at least it goes in my favor every now and then,_ Kisuke thought, knowing he shouldn't push his luck for too long, and yanked the rope down hard, bringing the Quincy speeding down toward the bamboo grove beyond the lake.  There was a loud crash, one that was certainly going to draw unwanted attention, but he had far more to concern himself with at the moment than curious humans.  Hopefully, they would stay away and out of the cross-fire.  _At least Ueno got away safely,_ he thought, watching as a section of the grove collapsed when the bound Quincy careened through.

 

 _Oh, all right.  That **might've** been a little fun,_ he thought, unable to suppress a grin as he pulled out his sword and continued his descent down the hill.

 

The steel in his hand hummed with barely suppressed anticipation as he ran ahead, and Kisuke could feel his euphoria quickly dwindle the more the hilt burned hot under his palm.  _She_ was pleased.  In his experience so far, nothing pleasant ever happened when she was in a good mood.          

 

Zig-zagging through the trees, Kisuke tried to keep his cool as he considered his next step.  Going with straight sword fighting was not only his safest choice, but the most logical one as well: an archer wouldn't be able to put up a decent melee fight.  If he moved quickly and cornered him before he had a chance to regroup, he might even scrape a very narrow victory.  Going for a kidō battle given his continuing troubles was suicide.  And yet he could only think of one thing that terrified him more than the prospect of a spell gone wrong: _her_.

 

Swallowing hard, Kisuke reached the foot of the hill and stepped into the bamboo grove, slowing down at once, all his senses on alert. 

 

His steps were measured and careful as he slipped through the tall stalks, his sword at the ready.  Every now and then, the constant, quiet crackling of the bamboo would be punctuated by a faint rustling of leaves, a sound he knew wasn't natural: it was subtle, but there was a difference between that sound and that of the breeze blowing through the grove.  Though the Quincy had now decided to camouflage his spiritual pressure, Kisuke could hear him somewhere out there, moving.

 

The setting was clearly advantageous for a melee fighter; no archer, no matter how talented, would ever choose to fight in an arena filled with tightly-knit obstacles.  _I have to end this here_ , Kisuke thought, pushing himself to focus even harder and try to determine the exact location of the Quincy's extremely faint spiritual pulse.  _There.  Two o' clock._

 

He moved forward, cat-like, staying as silent as he possibly could until the opportune moment.  He held his breath, heart thrumming in his chest, sweat collecting at his brow and lower back, and then he felt it: the breeze.  With the rustling leaves masking the sound of his movement, he dashed ahead, weaving through the bamboo stalks until he saw a shock of white.

 

_Gotcha._

 

He brought his sword up in a diagonal arc just as the Quincy began to swivel around to face him, only now becoming aware of his presence.  Kisuke's blade cut through the stalks cleanly, and there was a flash of red, the smell of blood in the air for a split second, before the Quincy brought his hand up and deflected Kisuke's blade with a blast of blue energy.

 

Kisuke leapt back, preparing for a follow-up attack, but the Quincy was no longer there, vanishing and reappearing a few meters away.  It was a clumsily-executed move, but it afforded him the distance he needed to form and shoot an arrow.  Kisuke dove down, the scent of burning hair and wood reaching his nostrils as the arrow flew above him, cleaving through the stalks.  The shot would win no awards for accuracy, but it had done what the Quincy had clearly intended it to do: it had blasted apart a large portion of the grove, creating an open, unobstructed field of vision that stretched all the way to the lake.

 

Wasting no time, the Quincy formed a new arrow, but instead of letting it fly, he simply pointed it straight toward the shrine in the distance, his eyes boring into Kisuke's.  "You have guts, I'll give you that," he told Kisuke.  "But you should have told _all_ your friends to escape when they still could."

 

Kisuke got up on his feet, right fist clenched over the hilt of his sword.  _He wants to talk; keep him talking, stall for time._   "You're letting me know you can sense them?" Kisuke said, nodding appraisingly.  "Honesty; I appreciate that."

 

"I think you'll find Quincies to be far more straightforward than your average Soul Reaper."

 

"Yes, you're very much a man like fresh-split bamboo, aren't you?" Kisuke said, chuckling.  "Oh come on, I _had_ to," he said, once seeing the slightly exasperated look on the Quincy's face.

 

"You amuse me," the man said.  "So I'll give you one last opportunity to save yourself and your friends."

 

"I'm assuming you're about to ask for the whereabouts of Muguruma Kensei?"

 

"I am, indeed."

 

"May I ask why?"

 

The Quincy narrowed his eyes at Kisuke, the bow and arrow between his hands pulsating harder at the sound of the question.

 

"You're supposed to be the truthful ones, aren't you?" Kisuke said.  "It's a simple question.  And if you're asking me to betray a comrade, I think I deserve to know why, at the very least."

 

"Can you not guess why?"

 

"Revenge?" Kisuke said.  "Payback for something he did to your friends?"

 

The man's face fell into a deep scowl, his fingers shaking with silent rage.  "Revenge?  Nothing quite as petty as that.  It's _justice_."

 

"Justice," Kisuke reiterated.  "Am I to believe your friends did nothing to provoke Muguruma's actions, whatever they were?"

 

The Quincy shook his head, letting out a scoff.  "I don't know why I ever expect any Soul Reaper to act differently.  Your warped sense of what constitutes as punishment is _astounding_ ," he said, his voice trembling with raw fury and pain.  "The sentence never fits the crime, does it?  You always have to make a _statement_ , make an example out of people so no-one ever dares to cross the line again.  You can thank your twisted Captain Commander for that mentality."

 

"What about what _you're_ doing right now?" Kisuke countered.  "How is taking your anger out on innocent students in any way just?"

 

"Oh, it's not," the Quincy said.  "I'm just taking a leaf out of the Soul Reaper rulebook.  Making a _statement_."

 

The man held Kisuke's gaze for a split moment, and Kisuke knew that there would be no more talking. 

 

It was impossible to Flash Step to the shrine and move them all at once.  Perhaps if Yoruichi were there they might have been able to save about half the group together, get them out of the way in time.  On his own, he was only fast enough to save two, three at the most, and even that would be futile; there was no way to protect the survivors from a second attack, not when their opponent was a highly skilled archer who could blow them apart from a distance, while he remained unscathed.

 

The only viable option was to engage him head-on, in the hopes that Ueno would make it in time and call for reinforcements.

 

The Quincy pulled his index and middle finger away, letting the arrow fly.

 

Flash Stepping away, Kisuke placed himself in front of the arrow's trajectory, turning to face his opponent.  There was no time to worry over the effectiveness of his spells right now, he would simply have to wing it.  One hand gripping his sword tightly, he raised the other.  "Bakudō number eight, Seki!" he called, and at once, a small blue sphere of energy began to materialize a couple of meters away from his outstretched palm. 

 

Half a second slower and it would've been too late: the arrow collided with the sphere before it could expand to a size greater than an apple's, slicing through it cleanly, but Kisuke was already in the middle of following through with a second spell. Fist clenched, index and middle finger pointing outward, he chained a second spell.  "Bakudō number thirty seven, Tsuriboshi!" 

 

It was perilous enough to even attempt a low-to-mid level Bakudō on his level, but to skip the incantation entirely was a recipe for disaster, he understood as much; yet a simple Seki would not be nearly enough to neutralize the Quincy's powerful arrow.  He had to try and cushion the blow as much as possible, and there was no time to spare on incantations.  Even a disastrously bad Bakudō could weaken an attack, however little.   

 

A flash of blue appeared before Kisuke, expanding out into a bluish-white, six-pointed star.  He could already tell, as flexible ropes shot out of the six points and attached themselves to nearby bamboo stalks, that his Tsuriboshi was weak, far weaker than it should have been even when skipping the incantation: half the ropes only barely formed a tight grip.

 

The arrow met the flexible wall of the Tsuriboshi, and in that brief moment before it tore through, Kisuke knew he had to make a decision; his Seki had only barely weakened the arrow, and the Tsuriboshi would only serve to buy him a fraction of a second.  He either had to move to avoid death, or use up what little spiritual power he had to protect both himself and his classmates.

 

The wall of the Tsuriboshi expanded, stretching out as much as it could before giving in.  Time had just run out.

 

_Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT!_

Relying on his dwindling power reserves had been a doomed strategy, after all.  The Quincy's power severely outclassed his own and would have even if he had been fighting at full capacity.  _I should have seen this from the start; I shouldn't have wasted so much energy on trial and error when I had so little to begin with._   There was no choice but to rely on kidō when trying to protect both himself and the wounded, but he had forgotten that not all kidō were built to be a flashy display of power.  In fact, most spells were a specific means to a designated end.  _It only needs to be strong enough to hold on._

 

As the arrow pierced through the wall, Kisuke raised his sword, placing his other hand upon the flat of the blade.  "Bakudō number thirty nine, Enkōsen!" Even with the small modifications he had in mind, a bakudō nearing the forties was going to take its toll.  The moment the incantation left his lips, Kisuke felt the veins in his forearms scream in protest, burning as though they had literally caught on fire.  Yellow light surged out of his wrist, the energy field that should have escaped through his fingertips clinging around his forearm, hissing and spitting particles as it refused to take shape.  Kisuke gritted his teeth, bearing the pain and forcing the energy into a spinning disc, its center forming out of the point of contact of his hand with the blade.     

 

_Keep the radius small, condense the power into a smaller shape for and give it just a hint of a spin.  And for fuck's sake, DON'T MISS._

 

As though in slow motion, Kisuke watched himself raise his arms when the arrow approached, the small yellow disc spinning before his sword.  _Don't close your eyes, don't close your eyes.  Aim it right._

 

Blue and yellow light exploded before his eyes as he felt himself launched off his feet on the moment of impact.  His Enkōsen shattered into a thousand pieces, but before it did, he saw with a smile that it had worked; the spinning motion had forced the arrow off its trajectory and as Kisuke soared backwards in mid-air, he watched it miss its mark and zoom straight over the shrine and into the forest.

 

The force of the blow sent him flying, all the way to the lake.  He landed on the bank hard, breath expelled from his lungs violently; his right hand was damaged but still clutching the sword handle, his left hand charred and now effectively useless.  He could feel the burn throbbing in time with his heartbeat, the few inches of water he lay within doing nothing to soothe the pain, pain so great that he nearly fainted right then and there.  

 

As his vision blurred, he felt a shadow descend upon him and saw the Quincy step into his field of vision, his eyes pained but determined.  The man placed one foot on Kisuke's chest, drawing his bowstring again.  For a split second, Kisuke thought he was about to kill him, but he moved his gaze away from him, toward the shrine again.  His second arrow blazed brighter and more powerful, its destructive power at least twice as potent.

 

Kisuke tried to speak, but his throat refused to co-operate.  He opened and closed his mouth, nothing but choked little whimpers and unintelligible sounds coming out.

 

The Quincy looked at him out of the corner of his eye.  The man's face swam in and out of focus, and Kisuke thought he spotted a glimmer of pity in his eyes as he trained his bow on him and pulled his arm back. 

 

It was the last thing he saw before everything went dark.

 

* * *

 

He was falling.

 

_"To his horror again, below was a bottomless blue ocean, and in it were three dragons -a blue, red and black one- with their mouths open, waiting for him to fall."_

 

Comparing death to a bottomless ocean was an apt metaphor, he had to admit.  The three dragons were a touch too dramatic, in his opinion, like something out of a grim fairytale, but he understood it now, the fear of the traveler in the parable.  The fear of entering the unknown and keep on sinking down for all eternity.

 

Still, there was a certain peace in it, floating down the once terrifying void.  No sound, no feeling.  Just being.  Was he even moving at all?  Or was he suspended in time and space, somewhere out there in the absolute darkness?

 

_I suppose the fear comes when you realize you are alone._

 

With nothing but his own thoughts for company, there was no-one to help him tell the difference between reality and nightmare, no-one to chase the dragons away.

 

 _Alone…_   

 

He wondered then, were even monsters themselves afraid of the dark?  Was the darkness, the isolation, what turned them into monsters in the first place?  For truly, it was hard to picture a being more lonely than a monster.

 

_Was Sarashina ever lonely?  She must have been… Forced to hide her nature, only ever being her true self at night, crawling out of the void only when Koremochi slept, as though summoned by his very own imagination, a creature that only ever exists in nightmares._

**_Alone…_ **

 

_"Alone we are born and alone we die; alone we come and alone we depart."_

 

_Every creature in this world dies alone._

 

When he closed his eyes, he fully expected there to be no difference, no change in the black pit of nothingness he was slowly sinking down into, but he was wrong.  With eyes shut, his world exploded with color and sound, and he could see them all: his mother, teaching him how to read; his father, making shadow puppets against the walls of the living room in their old home at night; Tessai, splitting a popsicle in the summer and offering one half to him and Yoruichi each, as a reward for a successful class; and then Yoruichi herself, her beautiful laughter filling the great hall after he had made a fool of himself the very day they'd met, the curve of her smile, the glimmer in her golden eyes, the waterfall of black hair down her back.     

 

And as his lips shifted into a smile of his own, he felt the sudden force of something colliding with his back, a strong hand digging into his chest, and he was flying, speeding away, the feel of the body firmly attached to his comforting despite its hardness.

 

"You stupid, _stupid_ boy."

 

Kisuke let out a groan as he was slammed on the hard, cracked earth, the spirit's cold face bearing down upon him as she knelt by his side.

 

"Is that what it's come to?" she chastised him.  "You will let yourself _die_ before you use me?  You'll even use spells you _know_ you have no control over?"

 

The light stung his eyes and he had to blink a few times, trying to get his bearings before he could answer her.  His gaze fell upon hers, and he could see himself reflected in her dark, unwavering eyes.   _She looks so lonely…_

"Can I tell you a story?" he said, his voice faint.

 

The spirit frowned, her perfect mask of cool cracking in disbelief.  "What?"

 

"A story.  You might have heard it before, but please listen to the end."

 

She looked as though she had no patience for his ramblings, but she indulged him all the same, helping him sit up and lie with his back against her bent legs.

 

"There once was a princess.   Beautiful, otherworldly," Kisuke began.  "She sat under a maple tree on November and seduced a passing warrior.  What he didn't know, dazzled as he was, was that she was actually the monster he had been sent to kill."

 

"I know the story."

 

"I told you to listen to the end, it's not over," Kisuke told her, a lazy grin spreading on his face as he felt his consciousness slip farther and farther away.

 

The spirit pursed her lips and stayed silent.

 

"I sat under a maple tree with a girl once.  She was beautiful like Sarashina," he said, reaching up tentatively to touch her tumbling hair.  "Like you.  Dressed in crimson, loose hair.  But what she didn't know was that she was actually the warrior.  She was Koremochi."

 

The spirit frowned at him.

 

"You said it yourself, didn't you?  It's not what I am, it's what I _could_ be."

 

 _Sarashina._ _The monster in the dark.  The nightmare._

 

Gritting her teeth, she grasped his face with both hands, the tips of her jagged nails digging into his cheeks.  "You could be _great_ ," she said, her voice quivering with need.

 

"And terrible."

 

"But _great_.  Fight with me."

 

Kisuke struggled to keep his eyes open, feeling the last few vestiges of awareness cling to him precariously.  "Can I trust you?"

 

Her only response was to scowl at him.

 

"Show me I can trust you.  Show me, and I will. You have my promise."

 

 

* * *

 

**FEBRUARY 5 TH, 129 B.H.I., FUSHIMI INARI TAISHA SHRINE, OUTSKIRTS OF KYŌTO, JAPAN**

 

His eyes opened to the intense glow of a blue beam of energy hovering only a few inches above him.

 

In a rush, it all came back to him: the mission to the human world, the ambush, the choice to hide out in the shrine and eventually, the explosion that had thrown him back like a ragdoll, his body landing on the banks of the lake.

 

Kisuke blinked, struggling to maintain his focus despite the light-headedness after the impact.  The hilt of his sword burned hot in his palm, and he could feel the spirit's presence, giving him strength, anchoring him to reality.

 

Above him, the Quincy's eyes widened; apparently, he had written him off for a second there, meaning to end this with a mercy blow, but when their eyes met, the Quincy seemed to hesitate.  It only took a moment, and it was what cost him a swift end to the conflict, though it wasn't brought by Kisuke's hand.  Out of nowhere, a bright yellow rope of energy wrapped around the Quincy's wrist and instantly tightened, yanking his arm upward and forcing him to face away from Kisuke.

 

_A… bakudō?  Hainawa.  Who—?_

 A split second later, the Quincy's entire form disappeared from sight, quickly followed by a white, black and red blur.  There was a strangled cry –the Quincy's- and when Kisuke forced himself up on his elbows, he saw the man spread on the ground, cradling his cheek, his bow disintegrated.  A religious man might have seen the turn of events as divine intervention, like the hand of Inari himself, striking down a perpetrator of sacrilege.  And it was damn near close: a lesser Quincy would have been dead on impact by the sheer force of the punch. 

 

His savior was just coming out of a neat roll on the ground, weight supported precariously on her right leg, her long, black ponytail swinging behind her back.

 

 _Yoruichi!_  

 

Eyes widening, Kisuke allowed himself a second of relief before noticing her left leg – _Her **good** leg- _ hanging limply by her side, her shoulders rising and falling in fatigue, her reddened fist shaking, whether from pain or tension he couldn't tell.  _How did she—?  Is she hurt?  Why did she come alone?_

 

The Quincy didn't take long to recover, standing back up on his feet even as blood trickled out of his mouth, but Yoruichi was too fast for him.  Before a new bow and arrow could even begin to materialize in his hands, she had Flash Stepped to him, dropping her weight on her right arm as she threw her legs up, the left one landing on his stomach and the right one hooking behind his kneecaps in a modified scissors kick.  Before his back had even hit the ground, she unsheathed her tantō and brought it down, aiming straight for his heart.

 

Kisuke knew what was going to happen next before it did, but he had no time to warn her.  Yoruichi's weapon connected with the Quincy's chest, but it didn't meet its mark; it hardly even sank in.

 

_His defensive ability… dammit!_

 

The failed attack took Yoruichi by surprise for only a second, but it was enough.  The Quincy reached out, trapping her armed hand by clamping down on her wrist, a sphere of energy starting to form on his free hand.

 

 _Get up!_ Kisuke shrieked at himself, cursing his impotent limbs. _Get up, get up, getupgetupgetup!_

 

His body wouldn't co-operate, still in recovery after the massive trauma it had suffered, but the weapon thrummed beneath his fingertips, ready and willing, pleading for release, and he knew then what he had to do.

 

 _Fight with me.  Give me strength_.

 

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than he felt it, her hunger, her yearning, as it washed over him, a torrent flooding his veins with pure, raw power.  His already bedraggled body screamed in protest at the invasion but it obeyed, accepting the parasitic force that soothed all its aches away, only to replace them with ache of an entirely different kind. 

 

 _"It won't last long,"_ she whispered in his ear.

 

_It won't have to._

 

His response elicited a shudder in her.  As he rose upright and broke into a sprint, heading straight for the attacker, blade at the ready, he could hear her voice urging him on in soft purrs, almost like a song.  The siren song of battle. 

 

The Quincy sensed him approaching and disengaged from Yoruichi, pushing her away so he could scramble back up on his feet, one hand still aglow with energy.  As the bow began to take shape, Kisuke fell into a Flash Step, no doubt the most perfectly executed one in his life and reappeared right before the Quincy, the sweep of his sword shattering the semi-formed bow.  The Quincy's face registered shock, and Kisuke swiftly twisted his wrist, bringing the sword down again, straight toward the Quincy's neck.

 

Every single blow connected, and every single one made no impact as the man's impressive defense held the blade at bay, his flesh not giving in a single inch, like it were made of pure steel.  Kisuke feigned frustration, hacking and slashing with as much speed as his body was capable of, even as the spirit in his head asked him to hurry, to shift to a different strategy.

 

_Don't worry; I know what I'm doing._

 

Though he had yet to harm him, Kisuke had pushed the Quincy into a corner, not giving him the option to attack or vanish away.  Kisuke could feel the man's anger mount, could see the exasperation in his eyes and knew that this was his window _._   He lunged into a thrust, his eyes suddenly widening as he seemed to miscalculate, the blade missing the Quincy's midsection by a hair's breadth.  It wasn't a mistake his opponent would ever let slide, and before Kisuke could pull back, the Quincy grasped his arm, the spiritual particles that formed his impenetrable shield collapsing as he switched to his offensive mode.

 

 _NOW!_    

 

Kisuke let the sword drop, but his left hand was ready to grab it.  Even with the spirit's energy powering his body, Kisuke knew his left arm had been badly damaged in the previous skirmish, but one good thrust was all he needed.  His fingers clenched around the hilt and Kisuke brought his left arm up, skewering the Quincy's side.

 

It wasn't the blow he had been aiming for, his left hand far too damaged to remain steady, but it would have to do.  Now gripping the hilt with both palms, Kisuke rose up to full height, coming face-to-face with the Quincy as the man grit his teeth, fighting to stay upright.  His dark blue eyes blazed with hatred as a deep groan rumbled up his throat and out his bloodied lips, and he stared at Kisuke unflinchingly even as he struggled to drive his blade deeper, higher, to finish this for good. 

 

Kisuke could feel the spirit's power ebb away little by little, his hands shaking now around the hilt, his knees quivering with the effort it took to remain standing.  He couldn't move any longer, he could only glare back at the man, panting as the Quincy tried to speak, spraying Kisuke's face with flecks of blood.  Of the two of them, it seemed as though he still had more to give, damn him, tendrils of blue energy starting to form around his arm.

 

Before his body could betray him completely and collapse, Kisuke felt an arm go around his throat and pull him back against the ground, right before the area was flooded with a downpour of familiar spiritual signatures.

 

"Blow them away, Tachikaze!"

 

With Yoruichi keeping him pinned on the ground, Kisuke watched over her shoulder as Muguruma Kensei rushed to the scene and delivered the finishing blow.  A gust of wind erupted out of his weapon, turquoise blades of energy woven through it.  By the time the wind had blown away, the Quincy's body was almost unrecognizable, though he still clung to life.  Kisuke swallowed hard at the tremendous display of power, certain that it was only a fraction of what Muguruma was capable of.  

 

In the wake of his arrival, ten more Soul Reapers had followed, he could see: his partner Kiriyama, Yoruichi's team and –to Kisuke's utter relief- Ueno Tsubasa.  Letting his head roll back onto the ground, Kisuke took in a deep, shuddering breath, almost unable to believe this was over.  Their arrival outside of Kyōto that morning felt like a lifetime ago.

 

Yoruichi's body was still draped over his, and he was so immensely thankful she was unharmed, that he momentarily forgot all about his promises to keep a low profile in public and let one trembling arm drape over her waist.  He could feel her entire body shake gently as well, whether from pent up adrenaline or something else he didn't know, and she lifted her head off the crook of his neck to look at him.  

 

"You all right?" he asked her.

 

Yoruichi stared at him as if he had just gone insane, her lower lip trembling as she tried to form words with her slack mouth.  "Am _I_ all right?  You—" She let out a sound between a scoff and whimper.  "You were _dead_.  I… I felt it.  When we were on the way.  I…"

 

Kisuke gaped at her, watching as the shudder completely took over her body, the expression in her eyes betraying that she still had trouble believing what had just happened.

 

"Guess I… got better?" Kisuke said, offering her a weak grin.

 

She looked like she was torn between laughing and tearing his throat out with her own teeth.

 

Luckily for him, he didn't have to wait long enough for her to make a decision, as Muguruma Kensei approached them.  "You," he told Kisuke, holding out a hand to help him stand.  "Where's Akimichi and Sōma?"

 

As Yoruichi hastily crawled off him, Kisuke accepted the proffered arm, wincing as he was pulled up to his feet.  "Akimichi is up there," he said, pointing at the direction of the shrine. "Along with two unharmed students and the rest of the wounded.  One of them needs immediate medical attention.  And… Sōma…"

 

"Spit it out, kid."

 

"We were… just north of the three-quarter mark along the Kamo," Kisuke said.  "That's when we were ambushed.  Sōma stayed behind while Akimichi led us away."

 

Muguruma nodded at him, then gave him a firm pat on the shoulder that nearly sent him tumbling down.  "Oi, Sakura!" he called toward Kiriyama, who was examining the Quincy.  "Make a portal straight to Soul Society, we need medics and backup for a scouting mission _immediately._ "

 

The following hour went by in a daze, Kisuke still reeling as his classmates asked him to repeat what had happened about a thousand times.  Yoruichi was conspicuously absent during all this, and it was only after a medic stepped in and pulled him away from the crowd that Kisuke was finally able to take a breath.

 

"Fucking Quincies, man…" the young, blond-haired medic said as he sat him down on a rock by the lake.  "They keep this up, you guys are going to be the first crop of Soul Reapers to graduate with hardly any real world experience."

 

Kisuke watched the proceedings with a blank gaze, observing as Fourth Division members pulled the wounded out of the shrine one by one.  He didn't get a chance to ask for specifics, but he was glad to overhear that Matsuda was going to make it, largely due to Kaneko and Yoshida's unwavering efforts to keep her alive, refusing to abandon her despite Kisuke's suggestion that they should try and escape if the situation became hopeless.

 

It was then that Kisuke's eye finally caught Yoruichi in the distance.  A healer was tending to her injured leg, while Muguruma stood above her, arms folded before his chest; he looked furious.

 

"Also, I get why you did it," the medic said as he worked on Kisuke's arms.  "Kudos to you and all, but don't pull that high-level kidō shit again, kay?  You could fry your veins to oblivion if it doesn't kill you outright."

 

The medic's remark got Kisuke's attention, and he turned to face him again.

 

 "You'll recover from this," the medic said, fingers running over the charred flesh of Kisuke's left arm.  "But it's going to hurt like a bitch for weeks, be warned."

 

Kisuke's focus didn't stay on the medic for long, however, as Muguruma's screams suddenly filled the clearing, drawing every head in the vicinity.

 

"I DON'T CARE _WHAT_ YOUR DAMNED NAME IS, I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE CLOSER TO THE SOUL KING THAN HIS OWN NUTSACK; WHEN _I_ TELL YOU TO STAY PUT, YOU _FUCKING_ STAY PUT, UNDERSTOOD?"

 

He could only wince for Yoruichi's sake, even as she took the reprimands stoically, keeping her eyes firmly on the ground.  He knew exactly how much she hated receiving preferential treatment because of who she was, but more than anything, she absolutely loathed it when others assumed she expected such treatment.  Muguruma had hit a nerve without even realizing it.

 

"Looks like they ran into some trouble on the way here, too," Kisuke muttered, now wondering what it was Yoruichi had done to disobey Muguruma and gotten herself hurt in the process.

 

"Hmmm?" the medic said, looking up from his work for a second.  "No, not really.  Muguruma has pretty good senses for an Eleventh Division brute.  He led them through a clear path."

 

"Then why are they treating Yor— Lady Yoruichi?" Kisuke asked.  "I saw her fight; the Quincy didn't injure her."

 

Turning toward Yoruichi to see who it was Kisuke was talking about, the medic arched both eyebrows.  "Oh, her?  I was told she tore a coupla muscles on the way here."

 

"How—?"

 

"Like I said, you try to pull crap that's outta your league, this is what you get.  She messed up her calf pretty badly Flash Stepping; a body can only take so much, y'know?"

 

 _Messing up her Flash Steps? **Yoruichi**?  _ Kisuke would have never believed that excuse in a million years.  The medic had no reason to lie to him, so perhaps he had misheard, or misunderstood the circumstances—

 

_"You were **dead**.  I… I felt it.  When we were on the way.  I…"_

With a sinking feeling, Kisuke started to piece together the truth, not daring to believe it even when it was staring him in the face.  _Did she…?_ Had Yoruichi broken formation because she thought he was in danger?  Was _he_ the reason Muguruma was giving her Hell right now?

"…YOU'D BETTER _PRAY_ I DON'T WAKE UP ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE BED TOMORROW AND DECIDE TO REPORT YOUR ASS TO YOUR HEAD INSTRUCTOR."

 

The medic must've seen the crestfallen expression on Kisuke's face while he watched Muguruma verbally eviscerate Yoruichi.  "Don't sweat it," he said, trying to reassure him.  "Muguruma's all bark and no bite, like a puppy.  Granted, a puppy with rippling muscles and an ass that deserves to be in a museum, but yeah, nothin' but milk teeth on 'im.  He won't report your friend," he said, as he finished up wrapping gauze around Kisuke's left arm.  "Aw'ight, all done.  Wiggle your fingers for me?"

 

Kisuke forced himself to look away from Yoruichi and tried to do as he was asked.  His arm felt incredibly stiff, his fingers taking a while to obey the command, but they did move and Kisuke let out a hiss at the still throbbing pain radiating out of his hand.

 

"Yeah, like I said, it'll hurt," the medic said, nodding.  "But that's good, means the nerves aren't busted.  You'll have to spend the night at the hospital, probably need surgery at some point, but you should make a full recovery," he said, and gave him a pat on the back before standing up.  "Remember what I said about overdoing it, kay?"

 

Kisuke nodded at him.  "Thank you," he said, his eyes straying back to Yoruichi, every word Muguruma barked at her making Kisuke feel more and more guilty for the turn of events.

 

 

* * *

 

**FEBRUARY 6 TH, 129 B.H.I., COORDINATED RELIEF STATION, 4TH DIVISION BARRACKS, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

"Well, I cannot say we will miss witnessing the birth of Bedpan Catch, but you _have_ been an exemplary patient, Lady Shihōin."

 

Yoruichi thought it best not to inform the doctor that Bedpan Catch had begun as an attempt to knock Kisuke out with a flying bedpan, only to have him catch it and fling it back.  Afterwards… well, there really wasn't much else to do in a hospital room all day long, and seeing as theirs were right across the corridor from one another… 

 

The doctor swept her long brown hair behind one ear then went on scribbling on Yoruichi's chart.  "I can see here you have two more rounds of treatment left; one for this afternoon and one tomorrow morning," she said.  "And it looks like you will be able to return to the Academy the day after tomorrow.  Get some rest for now.  Lunch should be served soon."

 

"Thank you, doctor," Yoruichi said as the woman pinned the chart back on the foot of her bed and left the room.

 

Yoruichi put both hands beneath her left thigh, lifting her leg off the sling until she had made herself comfortable on the bed, then let it drop gently, groaning.  Though the muscle had mostly recovered by now, it was still sore, and she had been advised to stay in bed for anything other than bathroom breaks until tomorrow, when she should be able to walk again.

 

The first night in the hospital hadn't been pleasant, the healing muscle that was encased in a wooden cast itching and throbbing till the early morning hours, when she had finally been able to get some sleep.  When she had woken up sometime before noon, she had come face-to-face with Kisuke, who had bizarrely been trying to balance a garish green doll of a bird on her shoulder.

 

"What the Hell are you doing?" she'd asked him.

 

Kisuke had frozen on the spot, glancing down at her out of the corner of his eye.  "Well… They only had generic birds in the gift shop, no parrot," he'd said.  "And I tried to snatch an eyepatch out of the warehouse, but I got caught."  

 

And thus, Bedpan Catch had sprung into being.

 

Later that day, Kisuke –who was not confined to a bed- had swung by for a second visit, both of them marveling at the miracle it was that Yoruichi's parents had yet to descend upon the hospital staff and demand the dismissal of anyone who had even the most remote connection to the Kyōto debacle. 

 

In fact, Yoruichi thought, it was extremely strange that neither her parents nor Kisuke's mother had come to visit, not even today.  Weren't the hospital staff bound by law to inform the next of kin?

 

Yoruichi still had no logical explanation for their absence even as she dug into her bland lunch of rice, chicken and miso soup.  More than anything, she wouldn't have minded some reading material; seeing as all of her school friends were actually scattered throughout this very hospital anyway, there was no-one else available with a connection to the outside world, and she had found herself getting sinfully bored.  Plopping her half-empty lunch tray on the nightstand, Yoruichi sank into the pillows and stared at the ceiling, letting out a sigh.  Her attention was soon redirected toward the door, when she heard someone clear his throat loudly.

 

Kisuke stood under the threshold, clad in the standard white hospital gown, looking very smug as he held a white eyepatch in one hand.

 

Yoruichi rolled her eyes at him, but scooted to the side of the bed all the same, making room for him.  "I see you've kept busy," she said wryly.

 

He took a seat by the side of the bed, handing her the eyepatch.  "Doctor says I'm free to go after the med rounds," he said.  "I had to make one last effort."

 

Yoruichi frowned at his still bandaged left arm.  "You're done already?" she asked.

 

"I'm coming back next week for a micro-operation," Kisuke said.  "There's some minor nerve damage to take care of, but they want the tissue to heal a little first and there's no point in me occupying a bed when I only need to change my dressings daily," he said, then motioned toward her slung leg.  "Calf getting better?"

 

"I should be up and about tomorrow afternoon," she said.

 

Kisuke nodded, suddenly looking a little nervous and avoiding her eyes as he spoke next.  "Quincy got you that bad, huh?"

 

It wasn't exactly the best lie she had ever told, but Yoruichi hadn't been able to tell him the truth about her injury.  "Well it just figures, doesn't it?" she said, eager to change the subject.  "I hurt myself tackling him down and I get stuck here.  But you come down with the _vapors_ —"

 

Kisuke rolled his eyes, a subtle blush setting on his cheeks.  "I did _not_ faint—"

 

"—and you get to walk.  There is no justice."

 

"Yeah, but at least you got rice pudding," he said, reaching over for the small, untouched bowl on her lunch tray.  "There wasn't any on _my_ tray."

 

Yoruichi scrunched up her nose at it.  "Mmmh, not hungry.  You can have it."

 

Kisuke picked up a spoon, digging into the pudding, and Yoruichi made a truly valiant effort not to react as he did.  The second the spoonful reached his mouth, he looked like he was going to be sick, much like she had when she had first tasted the foul-tasting pudding just a few minutes ago.  His eyes shifted over to her and the murderous expression in them made her crack, dissolving into giggles.

 

Kisuke put the bowl down, swallowing his mouthful with extreme difficulty.  "You are _evil_ ," he growled.

 

"Arrr, a true scallywag," she said in a thick, deep voice, holding the eye patch next to her eye.

 

Kisuke laughed, shaking his head at her.  He paused only for a second, his eyes lingering on hers, his smile soft, before he slipped off the bed.  "I'd better go get ready," he said.  "I'll come say goodbye after med rounds, okay?"

 

Yoruichi nodded and watched him go, her eyes staying on the small expanse of flesh visible between the loosely fastened strings on the back of the gown.  She could just barely make out the long line of his spine and his shoulderblades as he moved, and she tore her gaze away before he turned around and caught her staring.

 

It was a long half an hour to be left alone with her thoughts before he showed up again, this time clad in what looked like a brand new Academy uniform.

 

"Any requests?" he asked, leaning by the doorframe.

 

"Requests?"

 

"Well, Matsuda's still in recovery, but how hard can it be to break into a dorm, really?"

 

"Urahara Kisuke, you so much as _touch_ my stuff—"

 

"No books then?  Or a pack of soy sauce senbei from Nakano's bakery?" Kisuke said with a smirk, arms crossed in front of his chest.

 

Yoruichi was certain that her eyes glimmered with barely contained yearning at the sound of that.  She gave him a very ostentatious shrug, as though she could care less, but if he _really, truly_ wanted to go through the effort, she _might_ not say no. _Maybe_.

 

Kisuke turned on his heel, giving her a glance over his shoulder.  "I'll come by for afternoon visitation, Peg-Leg," he said, waltzing out of her room. 

 

Yoruichi buried her face into a pillow upon his departure, her smile wide.  _Idiot._   Letting out a sigh, she placed the pillow behind her back again, and stared at her immobilized leg forlornly, wiggling her toes off the top of the cast.

 

It was a small price to pay, really, considering the alternative.  If she hadn't gotten there in time… Part of what had made that first night in the hospital so unbearable was that, aside from the physical pain, every time she closed her eyes, she kept reliving that horrible moment.  Her heart rate picked up at the mere memory of what it had felt like, sensing the pulse of his spiritual signal grow fainter and fainter until it had disappeared altogether.  In retrospect, it can't have lasted longer than a minute, but in that one minute, she had lost the ability to breathe.

 

 _Don't think about it, don’t think about it,_ she told herself, draping her arm over her forehead, trying to calm herself. 

 

Part of her understood that this was a reality of their world, of the path they had both chosen to follow, but another part of her rued the day she had ever suggested he consider doing anything other than joining the Kidō Corps after the Academy.  For a Soul Reaper in training, she was still very unaccustomed to death.  Though she hoped she would grow more comfortable with it in the future, she refused to accept the possibility that the very first death she might ever be called to face could be that of her best friend. 

 

Shaking her head, Yoruichi pulled the blanket over her head and forced herself to try and get some rest.  She had a visitor to welcome later in the day, after all.

 

To her disappointment, however, the afternoon visitation hours came and went, and Kisuke never showed up.  She tried to console herself by musing about how he had probably fallen sleep and missed it, but a second no-show the next morning now had her torn between anger and concern.

 

 _Where **is** that moron, _ she wondered as she picked at her breakfast listlessly.  If he'd had to be re-admitted due to any unforeseen complications, surely she would've heard somehow.  _Would I, though?  Not even his mom showed up; hell, not even **my** parents—_

 

"…TO MY DAUGHTER'S ROOM _RIGHT_ NOW IF YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR YOU!"

 

Yoruichi froze with her chopsticks in hand, her stomach dropping to her feet at the sound of her mother's distant screeching.  _Speak of the devil **…**_

 

There was a loud stomping of feet down the corridor, a smattering of mild, placating voices that tried to calm her mother's seething rage, and all of a sudden there she was, all but kicking down the door to her room.  Yoruichi was still holding a mouthful of rice in front of her slack mouth, which only turned slacker when she took a good look at her mother.

 

Normally primped to perfection and moving with the very definition of poise, the picture Shihōin Hana made right now was startling.  To any outsider, she might've looked like a decently groomed lady, but Yoruichi's well-trained eyes instantly saw through the hastily applied makeup, the slightly mismatched kimono and obi, and the few, errant tendrils escaping her mother's updo.  To her standards, she was downright _unkempt_.

 

"Are you all right?" her mother breathed out, her face turning ashen as she rushed over to the bed and crushed her into her embrace.

 

Yoruichi only barely had time to drop her chopsticks and rice back into the bowl before her arms were pinned to her sides.  "I'm fine, mother; it's just a muscle tear, I'm fully healed now."

 

Her mother pulled back, setting the breakfast tray aside and grasping Yoruichi's face in her palms.  "We didn't even hear until—" she began, pursing her lips.  "I swear, these incompetent fools had better be looking for a rock to hide under—"

 

 _Aaaaaand **there** it is.  _ "Please don't make a scene," Yoruichi said, wincing.  "We had to head out in the human world sooner or later—"

"Oh, I won't make a scene.  Not now, at least," her mother said, a threatening undertone in her voice.  "I see that you're not packed, however."

 

"Well… no, I've still one round of treatment in about an hour.  Wait, what do you mean, packed?"

 

Her mother frowned at her, for a moment looking displeased, as though Yoruichi had disobeyed an order of some sort, but then her face fell.  "Oh, dear.  You didn't get our messages," she said.  "Of course you wouldn't have, we sent them over to your dorm, we did not know yet—"

 

"Mother, what messages?  What happened?"

 

The frown on her mother's face deepened.  "We will wait until after your treatment," she said, very noticeably trying to school her expression into a calmer one.  "I'll inform the driver to wait—"

 

 _The **driver**?  _ "What's going on?" Yoruichi said, feeling more and more wary by her mother's words and behavior with every passing second.  "And please don't tell me you're pulling me from the Academy."

Her mother let out a gentle scoff.  "Believe me, I am sorely tempted.  But no," she said.  "I am taking you home for a few days, your instructors have been informed."

 

"What for?"

 

It was the first time in her life that Yoruichi saw her mother visibly stiffen at a question, looking as though she had no idea how to answer.  And it was that more than anything that made Yoruichi dread what she was about to hear.

 

"Mom?"

 

Her mother took a deep breath, then met her eyes at last.  "Urahara Kaede passed away yesterday morning." 

 

* * *

  

**FEBRUARY 7 TH, 129 B.H.I., SHIHŌIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

Yoruichi walked up to the vanity in her bedroom, staring at her reflection.  Though the black kimono had been laid out on her bed for hours now, she was still clad only in a slim undershirt, her hair moist and starting to curl as it air-dried.

 

She touched one of the locks framing her face, thinking it was about time she made a decision.  Without really thinking, she picked up her brush and started to work on the knots methodically, sweeping it through her hair again and again until it was pin-straight.  Grabbing a comb next, she carefully parted the hair in three equal sections, then set about arranging it into a simple braid down her back.  It wasn't a hairstyle normally considered appropriate for a funeral, or any sort of official affair, but seeing the result on her mirror image, Yoruichi became determined that she would wear it no other way on this particular day. 

 

Though her own experiences with Urahara Kaede paled in comparison to those her son must've had of her, Yoruichi had long ago lost count of the fond memories she had formed in company of the woman.  The majority of them had been the product of the earlier years of her friendship with Kisuke, back when it mattered little to her family that her best friend had been a boy, and a lowborn one at that. 

 

The fondest one had taken place about one hundred and ten years ago.  She could remember the day like it was yesterday: they had been caught red-handed returning from the koi pond, both her and Kisuke drenched and pleading with her not to give them up to Yoruichi's parents.  She had indulged them, and they had all spent the rest of the afternoon at their apartment by the fire, Kisuke's mother gently easing the knots out of her wet hair and tidying it down to the braid in question.  Her hands had been gentle and swift, and Yoruichi could still remember seeing the older woman's kind smile reflected upon the mirror she handed her when it was time to show off the result.

 

Naturally, the moment Yoruichi stepped out of her room, now dressed, her mother's eyes fell upon her hairstyle questioningly.

 

"There will be no discussion about the hair," Yoruichi said gently but firmly.

 

Her mother took a moment's pause, looking like she very much wanted to argue, but she merely nodded, returning to the task of perusing the dozens of envelopes laid out upon the large cherry wood table.

 

It was difficult to reconcile the attitude of _Shihōin Hana, Wife to the 21 st Head of House Shihōin,_ with the demeanor her mother seemed to be employing ever since this morning.  She had endured Yoruichi's hysterics back at the hospital with calmness, gently explaining to her that she wouldn't be able to see Kisuke until the afternoon, as he had already returned to his ancestral home for the wake the day before.  During their ride home, she had narrated the circumstances of the past few days to Yoruichi:

 

Urahara Kaede had been unwell since February 5th, but any messages sent to inform her son of her state had been missed due to their absence.  In the wake of the events in Kyōto, where emphasis had been placed on the students' recovery and well-being, neither Kisuke nor Yoruichi herself had been accessible, and her own parents hadn't even been informed of the incident until this very morning.

 

Yoruichi had half a mind herself to demand all parties involved in this farce be summarily fired.  _Into the middle of the sun._

 

Walking up to the table, Yoruichi glanced down at the envelopes as well.  It took her a few seconds to realize what they were, exactly, as this would be the first funeral she would ever attend.  Unless she was mistaken, the envelope was meant to hold condolence money for the deceased's family.

 

"What do you think?" her mother asked.

 

There was a large variety laid out on the table, all of them white but bearing vastly different knots at the front.  Simple, but elegant Musubikiri knots in black or dark green thread, or the more complicated Awajimusubi, the twine in front twisting into shapes reminiscent of an infinity symbol.

 

"What about this one?" her mother said, pointing at a particularly stunning piece.

 

An Awajimusubi knot, meant to symbolize a strong bond between the two families, one that would not be easily unraveled.  That basic knot had been formed using numerous amethyst-colored threads, and on top of it sat a beautiful chrysanthemum made of silver twine.  It wasn't often that Yoruichi concerned herself with her mother's aesthetic choices, but this was one of the few times where she was very grateful for her taste.  More importantly, though Yoruichi knew her mother had had little to do with Urahara Kaede in life, the choice of envelope was one she had clearly made for her daughter's sake, given how she had chosen to include her in the process.

 

"Yeah," Yoruichi said, her voice thick.  "That one.  It's beautiful."

 

"I agree.  I'll take it to your father," she said.  "Are you going to be ready to leave soon?"

 

Yoruichi nodded at her, giving her a small smile as she exited the room.   

 

The carriage ride to the Urahara estate felt longer than it truly was.  Her parents, both dressed in equally somber black, kept conversation to a minimum during the journey, mostly discussing the expected attendance.  Thankfully, they both had the foresight to exclude her from it all, allowing her to collect her thoughts as she sank into her seat, staring at the view outside the window blankly.

 

The outer reaches of the northwest quadrant of the Court, though still well-cared for, were decidedly less luxurious than the core manors, like her very own home.  As lords of the northwest, her clan had always been the military and judicial power of the entire area, yet Yoruichi was only academically familiar with their many vassals.  In all the years she had known Kisuke, she had never asked, much less visited his clan or his ancestral home.  He hadn't been much inclined to discuss either in over a century of friendship.

 

As the carriage reached a halt outside the Urahara estate, Yoruichi wondered if perhaps she wasn't about to find out why.

 

Despite the feeling of dread that overcame her in the face of having to attend the funeral of a woman she felt nothing but affection for, Yoruichi couldn't deny she was a little curious as she descended from the carriage with the help of the driver. 

 

The Urahara estate lay at the top of a very short hill, a stone staircase leading the way to the entrance.  It was a simple, traditionally built white home topped with a grey roof.  On either side of the open double doors, a white lantern bearing the clan's crest –a lotus flower- in black had been hung as a sign of mourning.  Yoruichi's father stepped inside first, she and her mother following closely.  Upon entering, he turned to whom Yoruichi could only assume were family members, the two women standing by the threshold to welcome and thank the attendants.  Yoruichi's father withdrew a black furoshiki out of the front of his kimono, the cloth within which the envelope had been wrapped.  The two white-clad women accepted both the envelope and his condolences with a respectful bow.

 

As the four of them –including her mother- exchanged platitudes, Yoruichi glanced around the long corridor leading to the rest of the estate.  She could hear soft murmurs coming from the inside, and judging by the number of carriages that had already been stationed at the street outside, her family must've been one of the latest arrivals.  The corridor was lined on the right side with three portraits, each one bearing the name of the man depicted, all of them previous heads of the Urahara clan.  Though her eyes traveled over all three, it was upon the last one that her gaze lingered: the portrait of Urahara Takehiko.

 

Even without the help of the name plaque at the foot of the portrait, she would have recognized this man as Kisuke's father anywhere.  As a child, Kisuke had resembled his mother greatly when it came to their shared, delicate facial features.  And though he had retained some of that gentleness, Yoruichi could now see that the newer angles on his face had been directly inherited from the man depicted in the portrait.  Urahara Takehiko had a more pronounced brow than his son did, and while the latter's eyes were just like his mother's, both father and son were the owners of an identical, mercurial expression in their gaze.  The subtle, lopsided grin the man in the portrait sported was another feature he shared with his son. 

 

It was as though she were looking at a portrait of Kisuke himself, but with deliberate mistakes: amber colored eyes, a more angular face, and hair that reached down well beyond the shoulders, tucked neatly into a low-hanging ponytail.      

 

Out of the corner of her eye, Yoruichi saw her parents approaching once they had finished their discussion with Kisuke's relatives.  Her mother came to stand next to her, the three portraits capturing her interest as well, but her father stood before them, looking a little anxious.

 

"The procession will begin shortly," he said.  "Why don't you go offer your condolences to the rest of the family?  I will join you in a few minutes."

 

"Where are you going?" Yoruichi asked.

 

"I need a few moments in private with Kisuke," her father said.

 

Yoruichi watched him walk down the corridor and disappear into one of the rooms, but she had no time to offer even a weak protest as her mother took her by the arm and guided her toward the guests and family members gathered in the living area.

 

* * *

 

**FEBRUARY 7 TH, 129 B.H.I., URAHARA CLAN MANOR, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

The teacup in his hands had grown cold quite some time ago. 

 

Kisuke's eyes fell on the few errant rinds of tea leaves lingering in the bottom of the cup beneath the clear green liquid.  The shape they formed resembled a dog, if he squinted at the right angle.  There was a divination art related to tea leaves, wasn't there?  _Tasseomancy,_ he thought.  _That's the word._ As ridiculous as he found such practices to be, he had to wonder whether they held more interest than the conversation taking place a few meters away from him.

 

As the seven men of the Urahara clan –himself, his grandfather, his two uncles and their sons, all clad in mourning white- they had gathered in attendance of the deceased in the reserved room.  _The deceased_.  It was the only word he could stomach using in reference to her.  Any other, any term that described the familial bond they shared made his jaw ache, so _the deceased_ it was.

 

Once or twice, one of his cousins had tried to include him in the meaningless conversation, but Kisuke had politely declined, requesting to be left alone.  Memory failed him as to who it was, but he had the feeling it had been Makoto.  Wonder of all wonders, his cousin had had the good grace to respect his wishes and had even brought him some tea at some point.

 

His newfound interest of Tasseomancy proved to be mind-numbing enough, just as much as it needed to be to keep his eyes and thoughts from wandering to the back of the room, over to the white-clad figure in the casket who lay deep within a sea of chrysanthemums. 

 

So engrossed was he in the dog-like shape sitting at the bottom of his cup, that he failed to notice when the room suddenly went silent, all other occupants quietly withdrawing outside.  Kisuke only realized the room had been vacated when Shihōin Ken'ichi came to kneel by his side.       

 

"Sir," he said, a little surprised.  Though Kisuke had expected to see Lord Shihōin among the attendants for the service, he and his wife having already visited for the wake, he didn't think he would be having a talk with him in private.  In all honesty, he didn't even know if he wanted to.  "Thank you for coming again," he said, pausing for a second, his memory turning sluggish again.  "Did I greet you?  Last night…?"

 

"You did, Kisuke," he said.

 

Kisuke nodded.  "I, er… can I offer you—?"

 

"I am fine, you needn't worry," Lord Shihōin said.  "I only came to speak to you, since I didn't get the opportunity yesterday."

 

"I see."

 

"Did the Court Healer explain everything to you?"

 

Kisuke set his jaw, his hands clenching around the teacup.  "He did," he said, trying to keep his voice even.  Though Lord Shihōin didn't say more, Kisuke could feel it, the unspoken question, hanging in the air between them.  "Did you know?  When you hired her?" Kisuke asked, not entirely certain whether he regretted the slightly confrontational tone.

 

_Did you know that she had been ill for decades?  Did you know that she had kept it a secret from her own son?_

"Yes," Lord Shihōin said, and to his credit, he sounded remorseful.  "She disclosed her situation to me before you arrived at the castle.  She knew her time was limited."

 

Kisuke turned to look at him, not knowing what he was supposed to feel.  If there was anyone who deserved his anger for this, it was the deceased, but part of him couldn't help but feel doubly betrayed.  He had spent countless hours in the man's company, they had discussed nearly everything under the sun, and yet he hadn't once thought this was something worth mentioning?  Knowing Lord Shihōin, he had probably felt it wasn't his secret to reveal, or his place to intervene.

 

Kisuke's disappointment and frustration must've been evident in his expression, given Lord Shihōin's ensuing words.

 

"I know it is worth little, considering the turn of events, but you have my deepest apologies for my part in your deception," he said.  "To your mother's defense, she did plan on telling you once you had graduated.  I suspect she didn't anticipate her condition would deteriorate so rapidly."

 

Kisuke's brow creased at the sound of that, something about the word _graduation_ stirring a recent memory awake.  That discussion he had had with her a while ago concerning property, his housing situation upon leaving the Academy… _She was setting her affairs in order,_ Kisuke realized with a start.  _Before she—_ But she _had_ to have known the end was drawing near.  Within a few months from his departure to the Academy, she seemed to have grown a century older, her skin more lined, her body frailer.  Why wait until he had graduated?  More importantly, how had he not felt it?  The sickness eating her up on the inside for so long?  How could he have missed—? 

 

"That's why she worked so close with the Vault researchers," Kisuke said, voicing the trail end of his thoughts out loud.  "You were helping her hide it."

 

"Hide it and contain it," Lord Shihōin said.  "In my circles, your mother had been well-known for decades, ever since your father's passing."

 

"My _father_?" Kisuke said, perplexed.  _What does **he** have to do with anything?_

 

Lord Shihōin nodded.  "I do not know how much you were told about his death," he said.  "You must have been quite young—"

 

"Thirty eight," Kisuke said.  He would be lying if he said he recalled anything shortly before and after that time period.  All memories he had of his father were distant echoes, scattered and displaced in time, like a child's picture book with all the pages in the wrong order.  He did remember being informed of his death, he remembered being sent away to his grandparents for about a week before the actual death, and he remembered the ancestral home in a setting very much similar to today's.  He had only been given some rudimentary information, young as he was, and had only managed to piece together a complete picture of the incident as he grew older.

 

"A Hollow infection contracted in the line of duty," Kisuke went on.  "Symptoms didn't really manifest until a few days later.  It was an airborne agent, I was told.  Contagious, too.   Wiped out half his squad within a week, including himself."

 

"That is what I was told as well."

 

"She contracted it, too, didn't she?" he asked.  In retrospect, he felt like a downright simpleton for not having made the connection when speaking to the Court Healer.

 

"Yes," Lord Shihōin said.  "It was your mother who even realized there was an infection in the first place.  And it was due to her prodigious skill that the rest of your father's squad survived for as long as they did.  A few years later, when I heard of what that young lady was capable of, I asked her to join my court," he said.  "In return, she asked me to give her as much time as my resources and staff were able to.  Before she left that first meeting, she also informed me that she was perfectly aware she wasn't the only Urahara I was interested in.  I liked her straight-forwardness.  So when she asked me to mentor her son, give him the tools and opportunities to reach the heights he was truly capable of, I could only agree and shake her hand."

 

The ache in his jaw, the one he had tried to keep at bay for nearly two days now returned full-force.  His vision blurred behind a thin film of moisture, and when Lord Shihōin gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder, informing him he would see him at the procession, Kisuke nodded stiffly, a few rogue tears escaping and rolling down his cheeks.         

 

 

* * *

 

**FEBRUARY 7 TH, 129 B.H.I., NORTHWEST QUADRANT, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

As the palanquin holding the casket was carried through the cleared streets of the neighborhood, many passersby came to a stop and offered a deep bow in respect.  Yoruichi, along with her family and other friends and colleagues of Urahara Kaede trailed at the end of the procession, Tessai by her side.  From her vantage point, she could make out most of the family members who were leading the way toward the temple.

 

Kisuke's grandfather stood at the head of the procession, holding the ceremonial lantern.  The women of the family followed, their arms full with bright yellow chrysanthemums.  Kisuke's two uncles carried a cage of pigeons and sparrows respectively, and right behind them, their sons held the jars of incense and funeral cakes that were to be distributed later.

    

As the male heir of the clan, Kisuke had been designated to carry his mother's memorial tablet.  The black tablet came in stark contrast with his white kimono, his mother's name, date of death and age written upon it in golden letters.  Her posthumous name followed, a staggering series of ten kanji, most of which were so obscure that Yoruichi couldn't even begin to grasp what the name might sound like or mean.  Even her father, whose knowledge of ideograms extended well into the early tens of thousands, had had difficulty recognizing some of them when prompted.

 

 _I suppose that is the point,_ Yoruichi thought.  Her loved ones could still refer to her as Urahara Kaede when invoking her memory, without disturbing her spirit.     

 

When the procession reached the temple, Kisuke's uncles stepped forward and released the birds from their cages, signaling the start of the funeral ceremony.  The palanquin was taken further into the temple grounds, and Yoruichi tried to follow Kisuke with her eyes from afar as she stayed by the entrance, waiting for her turn to be handed a funeral cake.

 

She had yet to speak to him, or even catch his eye since her arrival at the family estate.  Part of her was furious with her father for occupying what little time she could have spent with him before the procession.  Given the procedural nature of such ceremonies, she couldn't expect to get many chances to talk to him, and after the kind of last few days he'd just had, she knew he must be in desperate need for an outlet.

 

 _Has he even talked to anyone aside from my father?_   _With relationships being so strained within his family, has anyone even—?_   Pursing her lips, Yoruichi tried to be patient.  She knew that pushing through the line and dragging her family along would accomplish nothing but cause a scene, and so she waited for her turn, chewing on her inner cheek nervously.

 

After what felt like a lifetime, she followed her parents to the funeral site within the temple.  The open casket had been placed out in the open grounds beneath a pavilion.  Three priests clad in brown and saffron stood on the left, in front of a table that held the burners and jars of incense.  The family was to be seated to the right, once they had finished paying their respects.  One by one, Yoruichi watched them offer a small prayer and burn some incense as the priests chanted along, each family member taking a seat on the designated area afterward. 

 

It wasn't until she felt Tessai's gentle nudge on her back that Yoruichi realized her family was next, an honor awarded to them due to status and their relationship to the deceased.  Yoruichi tried to compose herself as her parents went through the motions, and she straightened out her clothes and hair, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about her appearance.  _I should have worn something plainer, something less eye-catching,_ she thought.  _Or maybe something nicer?  In honor of Kisuke's mother and all… I should have at least done something else with my hair._ Of _all_ the things she could have done to honor Urahara Kaede for her final farewell, _this_ was what she had chosen to do?  Style her hair differently? _Stupid, stupid, **stupid**. _

 

Taking a shuddering breath, Yoruichi prepared herself mentally as her mother bowed to the family and withdrew.  Ready or not, her turn had arrived.

 

She stepped up before the pavilion, and for a moment, the sight of the white cloth draped over the body, the bed of chrysanthemums, the ceremonial knife laid across her chest, all made Yoruichi's breath hitch in her throat.  The portrait of her that had been placed in front of the casket had clearly been drawn with care, but it had failed to capture the subtleties that made Urahara Kaede who she was. 

 

Swallowing hard, Yoruichi slipped her hand to the front of her obi and withdrew a set of rosary beads, looping them around her joined hands and placing them between thumb and forefinger.  When she closed her eyes, she tried to summon the memory of Urahara Kaede as _she_ knew her, not the empty shell beneath the white veil, or the beautiful artifice upon the canvass.

 

 _Thank you for your kindness, your soft words, your patience.  Thank you for accepting me in your home and letting me know I will always be welcome there.  Thank you for the person you brought into this world and raised, my most cherished friend, my companion.  He will always be welcome in my hearth as well, and I will protect him with my life, watch over him for as long as I draw breath, you have my word.  May you reach enlightenment, Urahara Kaede; you will be missed.  Farewell._   

 

Lowering her hands and placing the beads back into her obi, Yoruichi approached the table and took a pinch of incense, then turned toward the family.  At long last, her eyes met with Kisuke's.  She tried to put a lot of unspoken things in her gaze, her deepest condolences, her promise to be there for him for whatever he may need.  She saw his lips move upwards infinitesimally, his eyes growing warmer, and she hoped he understood.

 

Turning back toward the priests, Yoruichi let the incense fall over the burner, then gave the family a deep bow before returning to her parents' side.

 

When the last few guests had paid their respects, the priests brought the ceremony to a close by chanting one final sutra, while the family placed the cover on the casket.  The funeral pyre was lit, and from afar, Yoruichi saw Kisuke's chest visibly contract, his jaw clenching as the priests' chants reached a crescendo:   

 

 

Both the victor   
and the vanquished are   
but drops of dew,   
but bolts of lightning -   
thus should we view the world.

 

* * *

 

**FEBRUARY 8 TH, 129 B.H.I., 2ND DISCTRICT, NORTHWEST RUKONGAI**

 

The smoke ring expanded as it rose up, growing wider and thinner until eventually it dissolved within the night breeze.  Stretched out upon the wooden deck, one arm folded behind his head, Kisuke drew in another drag from his pipe, calculating the correct angle when taking into account the air current, then blew out a new ring.  He watched as it lengthened, coming to encircle the moon in a pale, grey haze.

 

"I knew I should have _never_ introduced you to Kūkaku."

 

Kisuke paused, lips puckered around the nozzle of the pipe, then lifted himself up on one elbow and looked over his shoulder at the approaching figure.

 

Stepping carefully around the overgrown bushes and rocks in the patio was Yoruichi, clad in a thick beige travelling cloak, a second cloak –a grey one- hanging off one free arm.  "So you smoke now?" she said, tossing the second cloak over to him.

 

It landed over his stomach neatly, but he didn't make an effort to move it or otherwise put it on, still a little dazed that she had showed up _here_ , of all places.  "Sometimes," he said.  "And, uhh… thanks for this—" He indicated the cloak.  "—but I'm not cold," he said, holding up the small flask of sake he had brought along.  "I'm not drunk, either," he said, upon seeing her brows come together at the sight of the flask.  "Just celebrating."

 

"Celebrating?" Yoruichi asked, approaching the deck.

 

"I'm not dishing until you tell me how you found me, first," he said, sitting upright and setting the cloak aside.

 

"Asuka," Yoruichi said, coming over to take a seat next to him on the deck.  "I went by your… er… the Urahara estate.  And she told me I would probably find you here."

 

"Ahhh," Kisuke said, nodding.  "Good 'ol Asuka.  I was fully expecting this place to be in shambles," he said, looking around the patio.  "It could definitely use some work, but it's pretty clear someone has been visiting every now and then.  I was wondering about that; should've known it was her.  Oh, by the way, she told me your dad offered her a permanent position as one of your mother's handmaidens?"

 

"He did."

 

"That was very kind of him," Kisuke said, smiling.  "I hope she takes it.  I don't want her going back to the Urahara estate."  

 

"Mmmm, was it, though?  I'm not so sure if waiting on my mother's hand and foot is reward or punishment," Yoruichi said, smiling when Kisuke laughed at her joke.  "So… Your turn: what _is_ this place?"

 

With a grin, Kisuke put down both pipe and flask on the side and stood up, holding both hands out.  "You, my friend, are looking at Urahara Kisuke, home owner.  As of today."

 

"Home own—?  You _bought_ this house?" Yoruichi asked, gaping at him.

 

"Didn't have to.  It's already mine," he said.  Seeing the confusion in her eyes, Kisuke explained further.  "I lived here for… almost forty years.  This is the home my dad built after he got married."

 

Yoruichi's mouth formed a soft 'o' as a look of recognition crossed her face.  He remembered mentioning the house at some point in the past, but he didn't know if she would have remembered.  "So… you'll live here?" she asked.

 

"Well, the original plan was to move after graduation," he said, plopping back down on the deck by her side.  "But I figured, why not move now?  I could come here on vacation days from school."

 

"That's umm…" Yoruichi said, a slightly forced smile on her lips.  "Wait, what about the clan estate?"

 

"Oh, I let them have it," Kisuke said, waving a hand dismissively.  "It can go to one of my cousins or something.  Whoever's the heir now.  I hope it's Makoto; he's turned out to be the least obnoxious of the three.  Borderline all right, in fact."

 

"The hei—? _You_ are the heir."

 

"Not anymore.  I abdicated."

 

" _When_?"

 

"Mmmmm… Three hours ago, I think?  Give or take."

 

Yoruichi's mouth dropped at the news, the expression on her face a mixture between horror and sympathy.  Pursing her lips, she pushed her hair behind her ears and held her hands up in a placatory manner.  "Okay, look.  I don't presume to have the _slightest_ idea how you feel right now, but Kisuke—"

 

He let out a groan.  "Oh, _don't_.  It's not about _that_ ," he said.  "I've been wanting to officially cut ties with the clan for ages.  If anything, she would've approved."

 

"No, she wouldn't—"

 

"It's a sober decision," Kisuke insisted.  "I spent a _lot_ of time and energy hating them over the years.  All of them, whether they individually deserved it or not.  Silently at first, but after a while, I felt I had to fight back, you know?  Say something," he said, folding his hands on top of his knees.  "It used to infuriate me that she stayed silent.  Why can't she be more like my father, I would think.  Why doesn't she give them a piece of her mind and never return?  Why does she care what they think?  I only _just_ realized that he was the one concerned with their approval.  She didn't care.  Not even a little."

 

 ** _That's_** _why she kept coming back, for me.  So **I** could have a relationship with them.  She didn't care what they thought of her so she never bothered fighting back, _he thought.  He couldn't believe it had taken him so long to figure out.  _She did it all for me.  She—_

 

"And you know what?" he went on, turning to Yoruichi.  "I don't care, either.  Not anymore."

 

Yoruichi gave him a strained smile.  "That's a healthy attitude.  But still, that kind of a decision…  You might change your mind."

 

"I won't."

 

"You can at least wait until graduation," Yoruichi said.  "I mean… you still have a place back home.  The Shihōin estate, I mean."

 

There was something about the way she spoke that made Kisuke think that this wasn't just a throwaway comment.  As annoying as her –and everyone else's- mollycoddling was, he had the sneaking suspicion that part of her objection to his abdication was because he would no longer be returning to the Shihōin castle for anything other than work in the Vault.

 

"Worried I won't be coming around anymore?" he asked, smirking.

 

He fully expected her to deny it, to chastise him for making too big a deal out of what she'd said and try to change the subject.  But she didn't.  "Yes," she said, looking at him earnestly.

 

Her frankness took him by surprise.  For a few, torturously silent moments he didn't know what to say, how to respond to such a statement.  "Well… I… I've still got my shōgi games with your father every fortnight, don't I?" he said, grinning a little awkwardly.  "And the Vault.  So I'll still— And you can visit, too, of course.  If you want.  You know… check I'm not dead or something?"

 

"You mean from an experiment?  Or malnutrition?"

 

"Either.  Both."

 

Yoruichi laughed at his words, nodding as she met his eye, her smile warm enough to melt through ice.  Kisuke returned it, hoping she knew just how much he truly would miss living under the same roof as her.  At least they still had the Academy.

 

"So, you want a tour of this place?" Kisuke asked, motioning toward the house.

 

"Sure."   

 

Beckoning her to follow, Kisuke stood up and led her across the deck, circling around the house over to the front entrance.  It was more of a cottage, really, but he had always been fond of it.  He had no use for all that space in the Urahara estate.

 

One of the things he liked the best about this house was the privacy.  The walls surrounding it had nothing on the massive structure that encircled the Shihōin complex, but they were high enough to keep any wandering eyes from looking in.  For all he knew, his future neighbors could be the very definition of discretion, but after so many years of living under the watchful eye of his clan, then the Shihōin staff and now the Academy instructors, he was more than ready for a place where he could be himself entirely.

 

The front garden held little more than a few patches of grass, leading from the front gate over to the entrance, and the stone path was in serious need of some cleaning, or perhaps a complete renovation, he told Yoruichi as he guided her over to the front door.

 

He pulled it aside, brushing away a cobweb as he stepped through the threshold.  Holding one hand up, he formed a bright, yellow sphere of energy, letting it float up to the ceiling to cast its light in the dark living room.         

 

There was very little furniture left over from the years when this had been his childhood home.  _Most of it up in storage, probably._  There was still a vanity in his parents' old bedroom and a cupboard in the living room.  The rest of the living room was practically empty, save for the dusty tatami mats on the floor, and the fire pit on the top right hand corner. 

 

"There's a kitchen and a washroom in the back," he told Yoruichi as they stepped inside, pointing at the corridor leading away from the living room.  "And two more rooms.  There's the attic, upstairs," he said, pointing at the stairway on the left hand side.  "It was actually going to be my room, I think, but they never got around to making the change.  And over here—" He pulled the door on the right hand side open. "—is their old bedroom.  It leads out to the deck and over to the patio.  That's pretty much it.  It's much smaller than the main estate, but—"

 

"I like it."

 

"Yeah?" Kisuke said, smiling at her.

 

Yoruichi nodded, returning the smile.  "Yeah.  I can see you living here," she said.  "Which, by the way, you can do without leaving your clan," she added pointedly.

 

"Ugh, don't _ruin_ it!" he said, letting his shoulder drop.  "I was gonna tell you all about how I was going to turn the old bedroom into a study—"

 

"You mean lab."

 

"…Okay, fine, I mean lab."

 

"So tell me," Yoruichi said.  "But afterwards we're talking about that whole clan situation."

 

Kisuke scowled at her, feeling a sudden spike of fury flash through him.  "You know, I expected this crap from a number of people.  Didn't expect it from _you_ ," he said, marching out of the room and yanking open the door leading to the deck.  

 

"What _crap_?" Yoruichi said, following him outside.  "You mean showing concern?  Right, how _dare_ I?"

 

"I meant treating me like I'm a child!" he said, rounding up on her.  "If you want to talk to me about something, give it to me straight, don't pussyfoot around and don't invalidate my decisions!"  He tried not to let his anger get the better of him, he truly did, but it had been bubbling under the surface for too long, and he was about to unleash months' worth of frustration, not to mention the bitterness and resentment accrued these last two days on her.  "Everyone is _sooo_ fucking _concerned_ all the time, your father, Tessai, _her_ , Asuka – who, by the way, I know gave you that second cloak, I'm not an idiot.  Can't even step outside the fucking house without someone _worrying_ I'll get the sniffles."

 

If he expected his outburst to drive Yoruichi away, he was dead wrong.  Arms tightly wound before her chest, she frowned at him, looking as though she was just about to have an outburst of her own.  "Okay, first of all?  Concern is _not_ the same thing as thinking someone is incapable of handling things," she said.  "And secondly, if you don't want people to treat you like a child, stop acting like one!  You think I'm going to look past a life-altering decision made under these circumstances?"

 

"What _circumstances_?"

 

"You're sad!  You're not thinking straight—"

 

"Sad, _sad_?" Kisuke said, letting out a chuckle laced with hysteria.  "You think I'm _sad_?  No, what I am is fucking _ANGRY_ ," he said, pointing at himself.  "Do you _know_ how many years she had to tell me?"

 

He didn't have to specify who _she_ was or what the secret in question was all about.  He knew someone would have told her. 

 

"Let's do the math, shall we?" he said.  "I was thirty eight when she got sick.  Let's give it one year before she realized she was well and truly screwed—"

 

"Kisuke—"

 

"No, no, this is important," he said.  "I want you to grasp the _full_ depth of the charade here.  So one year off for proper medical diagnosis.  Big, important news, not exactly pleasant, so let's give her a few years to build up the courage to tell me, right?  I'm not unreasonable.  So let's give her… what, five years?  Hell, I'll be generous.  Let's give her a _decade_.  But wait!  I was still very young then, wasn't I?  She wouldn't have wanted to burden a kid with this, so let's give her a bit more time, until I was, say… one hundred and thirty?  Not an adult, not a kid, either.  It's a pretty good age as far as handling bad news goes.  So let's see, that leaves us wiiiiiith….?  Oh, that's right, _FORTY. ONE. FUCKING. YEARS_ ," he said, feeling his hands shake violently.  " _Forty one_.  Your father knew.  The Vault researchers knew.  Tessai probably knew.  Maybe even _you_ —"

 

"Of _course_ I didn't—"

 

"I was being hyperbolic," Kisuke said dismissively.  "What matters is that _I_ didn't know.  Her _son_.  The person who needed to know the most."   

 

Yoruichi's eyes softened as she leaned back against the doorframe and he knew that she had a lot to say, but she stayed silent, letting him vent.

 

"And you know what gets to me the _most_?" Kisuke said.  "She _knew_ she was running out of time.  She _knew_ she was getting worse.  And even then, she wouldn't sit me down and be honest.  She just kept… _dancing_ around the subject, asking me about what I would do after the Academy, about my living situation— You know what I kept hearing for _two damn straight days_?  How they can't believe the Academy could be so irresponsible, and how the whole Kyōto debacle robbed me of a goodbye.  Well, they're _wrong_.  They didn't rob me of a goodbye, _she_ did.  She could have told me, and I could have taken some time off before school, stayed with her, as if it would be the end of the world if I went to the Academy a couple of years later." 

 

"My father, umm…" Yoruichi said softly.  "He told me that she thought she had more time."

 

"Yeah, he told me that as well."

 

"Maybe… maybe she _was_ trying to work up the courage to— I mean, she must've had her reasons—"

 

"Oh, I know what her _reasons_ were," Kisuke said wryly, letting out a scoff.  "She was hoping I'd bring it up first.  Dropping little hints here and there, waiting for me to make the connection—"     

 

All of a sudden, his tirade came to a screeching halt, as the words that left his mouth finally registered, and he had the answer he had been agonizing over for the past forty eight hours: she _had_ told him, in her own way.  He'd simply failed to notice.

 

Dropping down on the deck, hand raking through his hair, Kisuke stared at his knees, his eyes wide and unblinking. 

 

"I mean… it's no wonder, right?" he said, his voice thick as he continued his own mental conversation out loud.  Yoruichi quietly ambled over and took a seat next to him.  "I get so wrapped up in my own head sometimes… I… Everyone thinks I don't notice anything else, but I _do_.  I _do_ notice," he said, head whipping around to her.  "I… I know you've been dealing with something of your own.  I just… I thought you'd talk about it when you felt ready."

 

"I know," Yoruichi said, giving him a reassuring nod.

 

"Okay, good.  Because I can _be_ there, you know?  For whatever—"

 

"Kisuke…" she said, reaching to take his hand, clasping it between her warm palms.  "I know."

 

No, no, he _had_ to make that clear; it was important that she understand.  "I may not look like it but I can _be_ there," he reiterated.  "I could have… She should have let me in.  She didn't have to go through this alone.  I could've been there, holding her hand.  She didn't have to be alone."

 

"You _were_ there," Yoruichi said, tightening her grasp on his hand.  "Of _course_ you were with her.  Who else would she had thought about when she closed her eyes if not you?"

_Every creature in this world dies alone._

 

It all came to him then, unbidden, the memory of hovering in the precipice of death, waiting for the void to swallow him whole, but when he'd closed his eyes, he'd seen them all, their faces, their smiles, and he had felt at peace, knowing that he was not alone.  They had all been there with him: Yoruichi, Tessai, his father, and _her_.  His _mother_.

 

And before he could stop it, it was there again, the ache in his jaw, and he could feel it all coming up, bubbling within his chest, building up in his throat, threatening to—

 

"She wasn't alone, Kisuke.  You were with her, all the way to the end."

 

And then the dam shattered and he was gone, making incoherent noises and trying to say things that didn't even make sense in his head, but she was there, wrapping the cloak around him and letting him lean against her shoulder, whispering things as her hand stroked his back, and though he couldn't hear her, not over the sound of his own chest-wracking sobs, he understood:

 

He was not alone, either.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"I don't know why I came here."

 

The spirit sat beside him in silence and for once, it wasn't the kind of silence that felt like the calm before the storm.  Not quite a comfortable one, but still… peaceful.

 

"Everything changes, doesn't it?" he told her, as they both gazed upon the barren tree.  "Nothing ever— You never know when something you take for granted is going to slip away."

 

"Your mother was named after the maple tree, you've been surrounded by them most of your life, and you didn't grasp what they symbolized until she died?" the spirit said.

 

For a moment there, Kisuke was stunned into silence.  But before he knew it, it started somewhere deep within his chest, a soft chuckle that built up and turned into full-blown laughter.  The spirit turned to look at him a little uncertainly at first, but the grin now gracing her lips was one of both amusement and a little pride.

 

"There is such a thing as timing," he told her, in between chuckles.  "You can be really dark, you know?  And much as I hate to admit it… I kind of like it."

 

"I know you do," she said, her smirk downright victorious.

_"Did you never wonder why you're drawn to it?  Did you never wonder: why **her**?" _

He understood now, that the spirit's obsession with Yoruichi hadn't even been about her in the first place.  It had been about himself, after all, and his refusal to acknowledge that despite how much he may have repressed certain truths about himself, they always found a way to manifest: in the way he wielded a sword, in the person he fell in love with, in the way his mind worked.

 

He was attracted to darkness.

 

And if there was one lesson he was going to take away from his mother, it was to no longer agonize over what anyone else may make of that.

 

"I am grateful for you, you know.  I realize that now," he told the spirit.  "And not just because you saved me, which, between you and I, was you also covering for _your_ ass," he said.  "There are certain things I couldn't stomach telling anyone." Not even Yoruichi was ever entirely privy to his every thought.  "But you… you I can tell."

 

"I know, Kisuke."

 

And as he turned to her, her face, her voice, her entire being suddenly had a name.  She was no longer _the spirit_.  He knew, without her ever uttering it out loud, as though he had always known, and simply hadn't been able to remember until now.

 

He chuckled at her, shaking his head.  "Of _course_ it would be that," he said, pushing himself up to his feet, his eyes gazing fondly at the barren tree.  _Be-ni-hi-me._   The Crimson Princess.  "She is normally supposed to be rather small, your namesake," he said, mentally comparing the real-life Crimson Princess with the colossus that stood at the very core of his inner world. 

 

"But you wouldn't have stood for that, would you?" he said.  " _I_ wouldn't have stood for that.  No… she had to be glorious," he said, placing his palm against the bark of the tree.

 

The maple loomed over him, still lifeless, still dry as bone.  _And isn't it time I did something about that?_    

 

"Just give me time.  I'll make it Spring for you again, Benihime."

 

 

* * *

 

**JULY 14 TH, 1909 A.D., KARAKURA TOWN, JAPAN **

 

Draping a hand over his sweaty forehead, Kisuke let out a sigh.  Was it his imagination, or had it gotten even warmer?  Every night, without fail, he would wake up at least thrice, tossing and turning, rolling over to a cooler side of the bed as he pleaded for a breeze to blow in through the window.  In the morning, he would wake up, tangled in between the sheets and the clothes he had discarded over the course of the night, drenched and frustrated.

 

And it looked like tonight was going to be no exception.

 

Groaning, he tried to roll over, but found, to his confusion, that something was weighing his legs down.  Already irritable and sweaty, he opened his eyes, only to be greeted by an all too familiar view.

 

Yoruichi was perched atop his lap, her hands splayed over his lower stomach, her hair loose and tumbling down her back.  And she was completely naked.

 

_Great.  Now I'm going to wake up sweaty, angry **and** horny._

 

But before he could close his eyes again and try to mentally block the apparition, it spoke.

 

" _Urahara Shop_?" she said.  "What, was _Secret Hideout of Soul Society Outcasts_ taken or something?"

 

Kisuke's eyes snapped wide at the sound of her words.  He shifted a little beneath her as a test: the weight felt real enough.  He debated pinching himself for good measure, but in all honesty, he had known it was her from the moment she had spoken, even though she had been subconsciously masking her spiritual pressure.

 

"You know how I know this is really you?" he said.

 

"How?"

 

"If this was a dream, the first words out of your mouth would've been _entirely_ different."  He should know; there had been one too many false alarms over the past few months.

  

Yoruichi chuckled, her palms sliding up to his chest.  "You look surprised," she said.

 

He was a little ashamed to admit, even to himself, that indeed he was.  He wondered how she would feel if she knew part of him had been terrified she would never return.  Given the softening, somewhat reproachful look in her eyes, he suspected she already did.

 

"I'm back," she said, lowering her body down and resting her forehead against his.

 

As Kisuke broke into a smile, he hoped his expression was mirrored on Benihime, for he was certain that the normally barren tree was now in full bloom.

 

"Welcome home."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was emotionally exhausting to write. I put that poor kid through the ringer in this one, I know, and I had to say goodbye to an OC I didn't think I'd grow so attached to. Nevertheless, this has always been one of the chapters I looked forward to the most and the least. For all my complaining, I did love writing this, and I hope you loved reading it as well, despite its glacially slow build.
> 
> I do realize this is the third parent I've wiped out due to illness in close succession. The thing is, Kaede was (unfortunately) always meant to die at this point and in this manner. I don't know how much of a surprise it was for any of you, but it's been hinted that Kaede was unwell since chapter 3. It was the Shibas who were actually a last minute decision (see my tumblr notes for chapter 5). My apologies for the somewhat recycled storyline. 
> 
> All funeral rites and customs described above are taken directly from real life and are appropriate to the time period… mostly. The problem I faced when researching this was that I was able to uncover a wealth of information, but not a definitive guide for the entire process in a given era. As a result, some of what ended up on the chapter maybe be a little anachronistic or even in the wrong order, and for that I'm truly sorry. I tried to treat the subject with as much tact and care as I could, but some improvisation was necessary to make the narrative work. 
> 
> The small exchange between Yoruichi and Kisuke in the end is something I've also been looking forward to including (that exchange being "Tadaima-I'm back (home)"/"Okaeri-Welcome back (home)"). 'Okaeri' (and its full form, 'Okaerinasai') has always struck me as a particularly beautiful phrase, full of love and warmth, and as I mentioned in my tumblr notes for chapter 4, I've always loved that this is how Kisuke canonically first greets Yoruichi way back in her series debut.


	9. The Creeping Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While writing this chapter I realized I'd messed up the dates for the previous one, and instead of counting years backwards, I'd done the opposite *headdesk* It's been fixed now. 
> 
> Reading translations of the newest Bleach databook gave me a LOT of Kisuke & Shinji feels, so I've put off the inevitable estrangement for a few more years… maybe even decades I DUNNO, but anyway, there's some Shinji in this chapter because I can. 
> 
> Kisuke refers to a human inventor in this chapter, though he doesn't name him. He's talking about Nikola Tesla, whom I think he'd genuinely admire and like, and whose autobiography came out in 1919 (it's free online btw and it's definitely worth a read). Aside from being the world's most prolific inventor and arguably the greatest mind that ever lived, Tesla was also capable of being a major troll. They would totally have been science bros and vented to each other about Edison and Aizen over drinks. 
> 
> Also, there is a fair amount of teenage feeeeeeels in this chapter, which I always dreaded writing, but it needs to be dealt with before our two protagonists can start moving on with their lives and learn to deal with such matters in more refined ways. Hopefully, the last few scenes of this instalment will make up for the angst.
> 
> As always, notes have been posted on tumblr, and you all have my thanks for your lovely comments on the previous chapter. Enjoy!
> 
> Cultural Notes:
> 
> Kabuki: Traditional Japanese theater, whose subject matter is always dramatic. One of the most popular themes in Kabuki during the Edo period was that of doomed lovers, often forced to choose between love and duty. Certain plays became so influential, that they had to be banned to stop people from imitating them and committing double suicide as the only conceivable way out of such a dilemma. This ties directly into the whole concept of Honne-Tatemae (Truth and Mask, respectively) which is still relevant in Japanese culture, and far too complex to analyze here. At least, er… at this particular moment in the story. *nudge-nudge, wink-wink*
> 
> Hinoki: A type of wood similar to cypress and indigenous to Japan. Often used (as in this chapter) as a luxury material for the construction of tubs used in traditional Japanese bathrooms.
> 
> Genkan: Entryway for Japanese houses, where guests and residents are meant to take off their shoes.
> 
> Shōji: Sliding doors used either as windows or as room dividers (think the doors that show up when Soul Reapers open a gate to Soul society).

**OCTOBER 6 TH, 1922 A.D., URAHARA SHOP, KARAKURA TOWN, JAPAN**

 

"This is weird." 

 

"Is it?  No weirder than using a Hell Butterfly, I think."

 

From the other end of the line came Hirako's slightly distorted grunt.  "It's weird 'cause with a Hell Butterfly, I _know_ what's carryin' and relayin' my message.  How the hell does this even work?  Like… does the polyphone—"

 

"Telephone."

 

"— _WHATEVER_ , copy my message and then… what?  It signals yours and…?"

 

Kisuke chuckled as he lay down on the pillows by the kotatsu, receiver sandwiched between shoulder and ear to allow his hands to freely fiddle with his pipe.  "Well, it's not all that different from a telegraph, really.  It simply transmits multiple tones in succession using a multi-reed dev—"

 

"OKAY, OKAY, FORGET I ASKED."

 

"You _did_ urge me to – what was it- _get with the times_?  And so I did."

 

"You tried on the suit?"

 

Kisuke thought of Hirako's latest parcel lying open upstairs, knowing that about half its contents would _never_ be used.  He didn't really see the point in willingly choosing to wear something more restrictive for the sake of fashion.  Even the small concession of moving from a comfortable yukata to a top and trousers combination had taken him a long time to get used to, and he had only even attempted the transition since it required less of an effort to slip into when compared to properly tying and fitting a kimono.  He had to admit, however, that the cap _had_ been fun to try on.

 

Now the telephone, on the other hand, had been a trend he had been itching to adopt ever since its conception.  Not to mention the fact that it had been the best business decision he'd ever made; re-opening his store to humans required a great deal of careful maneuvering and no small amount of memory spells every now and then, but it had certainly paid off in droves.  He suspected it wouldn't be long until telephones became a household item, but for the time being, Urahara Shop was the go-to destination for the entire neighborhood when it came to placing a call.

 

"I listened to the records," Kisuke said, sidestepping the sartorial half of Hirako's gift.  "Excellent selection."

 

"See, that's what I meant when I said _get with the times_ , ya blockhead," Hirako said, letting out a sigh.  "Ah well, at least _some_ of my impeccable taste rubbed off on ya.  And thanks for the telewhatever.  Rose said he liked the color, was wonderin' where you got it; all the ones down here are black or brown fer whatever reason.  Told 'im you probably made it yerself."

 

"How did you know?"

 

" _Please_ , who else would make this thingamajig green?  So, is this like… a super version?  Does it zap ya if ya take too long to answer or somethin'?"

 

"Would I ever do that?"

 

"Yes."

 

Kisuke laughed at Hirako's certainty that there was come chicanery involved with the gift.  Truth be told, he _had_ attempted to modify it, but not with any intent to prank them.  Unfortunately, human inventions and spiritual energy didn't mix particularly well, he had discovered to his chagrin.  He was determined that there _had_ to be a way, but it was a fine balance between barely affecting the device and completely destroying it.  His attempts to infuse them with a touch of kidō were getting closer to the end goal every day, but the small mound of fried circuits in the back room of the store was a testament to the complexity of the project.  _And they're not exactly cheap, either._    

 

"I am hurt, _hurt_ that you would—"

 

"Uh-huh, yeah," Hirako said, and Kisuke could hear the eye-roll in his voice.  "I'll bet y— What?  Yes, I'm on the polyphone, Hiyori—"

 

Kisuke decided not to correct Hirako this time around, trying instead to listen in on the muffled voice sounding from somewhere in Hirako's vicinity.

 

" 'Course it's Kisuke.  How many other people do we know with a—?  I ain't _tellin'_ 'im a thing.  You wanna talk to 'im, you come here and pick up the—"

 

There was a rustle on the other end of the line, then some barely audible cursing, before Hiyori's voice rang through the receiver.  "…I ain't got nothin' to talk about with baldies who won't even move their _lazy asses_ outta their damn _CAVE_."

 

It was a few more seconds before Hirako returned, after wrenching the receiver away from Hiyori, Kisuke could only assume.  "Yeah, she's uhhh… Well she's got a point, don't she?  We've seen Yoruichi a coupla times now," Hirako said.  "You coulda visited, too."

 

 _I guess I could have,_ Kisuke thought.  Yoruichi was certainly not opposed to him joining her in her travels.  Though they had never discussed the possibility, he knew there was a standing open invitation to travel alongside her whenever he wished.  And he would, he definitely would, but he couldn't leave the store behind right now.  Or Tessai.  Perhaps next time she decided to head south, like for her trip to the Okinawa Islands two years ago, he would consider it.  Unless he happened to be busy, which couldn't really be helped.

 

"Y'know…" Hirako began, a taunting edge to his voice.  "I'm beginnin' to suspect you've been bullshittin' everyone all these years."

 

"Meaning?"

 

"Meanin' I haven't seen you an' Yoruichi in the same place fer decades now," Hirako said.  "You sure she's _really_ yer girlfriend?" 

 

"I seem to recall you reaching that conclusion yourself without me ev—"

 

" 'Cause I remember lotsa kids back in the Academy goin' all: _Yah, you wouldn't know 'er, she's from Rukongai,_ and such shit when talkin' about their imaginary girlf—"

 

"Why don't I call her right now—"

 

"She's there?"

 

"Yes; she just returned from Russia—"

 

Hirako started laughing.

 

 _Oh, for fuck's—_ Pressing the receiver up against his chest, Kisuke turned his head toward the dining room.  "Yoruichi!"

 

There was an all-too-eager grin on her face as she peeked around the threshold; that should have been his first clue to her intentions.  The fact that she showed up so fast, as though she had been waiting for him to call her over, should've been his second one.  "Yeeees?" she said in a sing-song voice.  _That_ should've been his third clue. 

 

Kisuke held up the receiver toward her.  "Would you please be so kind as to inform Hirako that you are, in fact, my girlfriend?" he said, just a touch impatiently.  He did feel a little foolish referring to her as such: it was too small a word to describe what she meant to him, but he had a feeling that if he chose to define their relationship in a more appropriate term, it would only be an invitation to more taunting.

 

Yoruichi trotted over to his side and plopped down on the pillows stomach-first, then yanked the phone out of his hand.  "I expected better of you, Hirako," she said.  "So I did the guy a favor, you don't have to rub it in his face—"

 

Kisuke dove for the receiver, but Yoruichi rolled onto her back and slammed a foot against his chest, cackling.  So apparently she'd overheard their conversation.  _Of **course** she did.  Damn her supernatural sense of hearing. _  Kisuke grabbed her leg and pushed it aside, trying to reach for the receiver again, only to find himself trapped in a headlock, his face half mushed against a pillow and her chest as she rolled back onto her stomach.  Accepting defeat, her stopped trying to wrest the phone away from her and simply lay there, listening to her laughing alongside Hirako. 

 

 _At least the view is nice._    

 

When Yoruichi and Hirako were done mocking him, conversation clearly switched to a more pleasant subject, judging by the way Yoruichi's arm relaxed around his neck.  Digging her hand through his hair, she grinned broadly, her whole body perking up at Hirako's query.  "I got to ride a train!" she said brightly.  "All the way from Vladivostok to Moscow!"

 

Kisuke rolled onto his back, Yoruichi's hand following his movement as she continued to toy with his hair.  He placed one arm behind his head, watching her animated face above him as she narrated the highlights of her longest trip to date to Hirako.  Being apart for almost an entire year hadn't been easy, but he hadn't been able to find it in him to guilt her into returning earlier, not when her letters had been so enthusiastic about everything she'd seen while exploring Russia. 

 

On the plus side, it had been, without a doubt, the most productive year of his life.  The realization had brought to mind the words of a truly remarkable human inventor, who had famously claimed he partly owed his unwavering focus to voluntary celibacy. 

 

Empirical evidence aside, Kisuke didn't think they would ever see eye-to-eye on that particular subject.

 

"Anyway, say hello to everyone for me," Yoruichi said.  "Here's your _friend_ back.  Do svidaniya!" she said, in a very decent imitation of a Russian accent – _Damn, that was kinda hot-_ then handed Kisuke the receiver.

 

He gave her an only half-hearted glare as she smirked and leaned down, giving his ear a gentle bite before she got up and slinked toward the dining room, back to her interrupted card game with Tessai.

 

It took a while before Kisuke became aware of the fact that Hirako was speaking to him, his head full of imagery that had nothing whatsoever to do with his old friend, or telephones, or anything of the sort.  _All right, so perhaps there **is** some sort of correlation between celibacy and focus._   "Hnnnnn?"

 

"I _said,_ " Hirako reiterated.  "How's the shop goin'?  You still cheatin' Soul Reapers outta their money with yer trinkets?"

 

Ever since first learning of the existence of the shop, Hirako had always taken great pleasure in hearing of his steadily improving business.  Kisuke couldn't exactly deny that many of his practices involved some form of trickery, but he hadn't yet found it in himself to admit to Hirako that he actually enjoyed his dealings with Soul Reapers.  Despite everything that had happened prior to their exile, despite his own deep-sated issues with Soul Society authorities, whenever he thought of their former home, it was always with fondness and longing, as opposed to Hirako and Hiyori's bitterness. 

 

Then again, he couldn't exactly fault them for their resentment: out of all eleven outcasts, he had been affected the least by the turn of events.  Eight of their number hadn't been quite as fortunate.

 

"It's a living," he said.  "Speaking of trinkets… How are the gigai holding up?  Any issues?"

 

"Pffft, fishin' fer compliments, are we?  You _know_ they still work just fine; you built 'em to last."

 

"Well, I would be remiss if I didn't at least _ask_ —"

 

"Want me to praise that big brain a' yours?  That it?  Want me to _stroke_ yer ego a bit?"

 

From inside the dining room, Kisuke heard Yoruichi call out in feigned disgust.  "Ugh, _get a room_ already _._ "     

 

"Hear that?  Jealousy," Kisuke said to Hirako.  "All the proof you need."

 

"Yeah, yeah…"  There was a long pause.  "Seriously though, get off yer ass and visit, alright?  Soon."

 

For the majority of people, Kisuke assumed the draw of the telephone was instant, remote communication.  For him, it was communication without the need to face his interlocutor: it made lying a lot easier, even though it wasn't often that he lied to Hirako.  Or even to himself.  But this would have to be one of those rare occasions.  "Well, with all this post-war euphoria and economic prosperity, I might just take you up on the offer and splurge on a trip," he said.

 

"Prosperity my _ass_ ," Hirako said, scoffing, though he sounded pleased with Kisuke's reply.  "You an' I both know this shit ain't gonna last.  Not sure what I expected humans to be like up close an' personal, but how different could they have been, really?  Sometimes I sorta forget just how fucked up Soul Society was, y'know?  Didn't take long to be reminded."

 

Despite his nostalgia and yearning for everything he had been forced to abandon, Kisuke hadn't once, not for a second, forgotten how insidious Soul Society politics could be.  Hirako may have gotten a generous taste of it in later years, but for Kisuke, it had been an ever-present shadow, lurking in the dark behind almost every single decision in his life.

 

* * *

 

 

**FEBRUARY 20 TH, 129 B.H.I., URAHARA RESIDENCE, 2ND DISCTRICT, NORTHWEST RUKONGAI**

 

"Okay, I like you and all, Urahara, and I know I volunteered for this, but what the fuck is wrong with you?"

 

Shiba Kaien dropped the crate in his arms with a thud and hurried to shut his younger brother's ears with his hands.  "Sister!  Not in front of Ganju!" he said, scandalized.

 

"He's making me carry a flayed body!" Kūkaku said in protest, as Ganju grumbled that he wasn't a baby and tried to disengage from his brother.  

 

Grateful though he was that Yoruichi had managed to wrangle together a veritable moving crew for him, Kisuke was starting to see just why Yoruichi's visits to Kūkaku's home were either short-lived, or tended to get moved outdoors more than often.  In between Kūkaku's impatience and young Ganju's attempts to persuade his much older siblings to include him in their activities, moving day was going much slower than he had anticipated: there was still a large mound of crates sitting at his front yard.

 

Still, even with all the hubbub, it was shaping out to be a pleasant day.  Especially since no-one had yet to challenge his claims that his arm was still in recovery.  Which it was.  _Partly_. 

 

"That's just Fleshy," he told Kūkaku, chuckling.  "He's my gigai."

 

Stopping mid-way through pulling Fleshy out of a long trunk, Kūkaku narrowed her eyes at him.  "……Okay, _that_ sounded dirty."

 

"It's a synthetic body," Yoruichi said, picking up Fleshy's legs and helping Kūkaku pull him up.  "Soul Reapers use them for missions in the human world."

 

"Annnnnnd… you have one _why_?" Kūkaku asked him, the three of them now heading toward the front entrance behind Kaien and Ganju.

 

"Research," he said.

 

"Right, _of course_.  My mistake," Kūkaku said, rolling her eyes.  She looped her arms around Fleshy's midsection, beads of condensation forming on her forehead as she carried the heavy body indoors with Yoruichi's help.  When they stepped in through the threshold, Kisuke saw her suddenly scrunch her nose up, her brow furrowing, and she sniffed at the air.  "Is it supposed to—?"

 

"Stink like a rotting carcass left out in the sun for a week?" Yoruichi helpfully supplied.

 

Reaching down to the sides of the gigai's face where the ears would normally be, Kisuke clamped his hands down and scowled at Yoruichi.  "Yoruichi!  Not in front of Fleshy!"

 

"He _does_ stink!"

 

Hands still placed over Fleshy's nonexistent ears, Kisuke let out a sigh.  "Yeah, I know.  I've tried washing him, but the smell just won't go away."

 

Kūkaku and Yoruichi walked past the living room and into the study, where they deposited Fleshy on the floor as Kaien and Ganju headed outside to bring in more crates.  Certain Yoruichi was about to drop the gigai and move on, Kisuke watched her like a hawk, until she got the message and, rolling her eyes, very slowly laid Fleshy's legs down while giving him an exasperated glare.  

 

"Try vinegar," Kūkaku said, massaging her shoulder.

 

"Hmmmm?"

 

"It removes bad odors," Kūkaku said.  "Just make sure you use a light coating: you want it to evaporate, not seep in, 'cause then you get rid of the other smell, but you're stuck with your place stinking of vinegar."

 

Both he and Yoruichi stared at her in silence, and he knew they were thinking of the exact same thing: they had both expected Kūkaku's knowledge of household matters to be negligible.

 

"I live with _four_ men," Kūkaku said, arms akimbo.  "You learn stuff like that or resign yourself to death by noxious fumes."

 

Though Kisuke was satisfied with the explanation, Yoruichi clearly wasn't.  She crossed her arms before her chest and arched one eyebrow at Kūkaku.

 

"Oh, all right," Kūkaku said.  "Shiroganehiko does the cleaning.  But I _did_ learn things when it was just the three of us!" she added, holding one index finger up.  "I can impart knowledge, like… _actual_ pearls of wisdom."

 

"Thanks," Kisuke told her.  "But I'm not a _complete_ stranger to housework."

 

His mother had spent the majority of her early life as a commoner, and thankfully, she had insisted he not depend on Asuka for every little thing, even though he had grown up as nobility.

 

"Can you cook?" Kūkaku asked, a very knowing expression on her face.

 

"Well, no, but I—" Kisuke began, ready to list the unimpressive list of chores he _was_ capable of, when Kūkaku's words fully sank in. 

 

Nearly everything related to the regular upkeep of a home was an easy enough –if tedious- task and cleaning in particular didn't have to be a daily routine.  Cooking, however, was.  And he didn't have the _slightest_ idea how to prepare even the simplest of meals.

 

"See that?" Kūkaku said, turning to Yoruichi as she pointed at Kisuke's undoubtedly ashen face.  "That's the trademark _Clueless-Suddenly-Independent-Previously-Pampered-Noble_ look.  Learn from our mistakes and pick up a few skills first before _you're_ on your own," she said, patting Kisuke gently on the shoulder before heading outside.

 

"Noted," Yoruichi said, giving him a sympathetic grin.

 

One mild panic attack later, Kisuke took a break –"From _what_?  _Watching_?" Yoruichi had quipped- and headed downtown to pick up some dinner, as fulfillment of the promise he'd made Yoruichi and the Shiba siblings for their help.  He tried not to dwell on the fact that, for the foreseeable future, most of his income after graduation would surely be spent on restaurant food until he managed to reach a skill level where food-poisoning would no longer be a concern.

 

An hour or so later, when he returned to the cottage laden down by a small mountain of bags, he saw to his surprise that the front yard had been completely cleared of boxes; he had expected the whole process to end sometime before nightfall.  As soon as he stepped into the house, the reason for their swifter than expected progressbecame clear: there were two more guests in his living room.

 

Kūkaku and her siblings all sat on crates around the fire pit, the former just now getting a fire started.  Yoruichi was a few feet away, rummaging through a crate along with Harada, who looked up upon Kisuke's arrival and gave him a cheery wave.  "Hey."

 

Yoruichi emerged next, addressing the group behind her.  "Okay, I found pillows," she said, before turning to him.  "I'm surprised your arm can handle all that _weight_ ," she said pointedly.

 

Salvation arrived in the form of Harada, who rose up to help him out with the food, and Kisuke was spared from having to make up an excuse.  "Hey, yourself," Kisuke told him.  "How—?"

 

"I remembered you mentioning something about a move this Saturday," he said, taking a few paper bags off Kisuke's arms.  "So I figured you'd need a hand.  And I found a volunteer on my way over," he said, motioning with his head toward the back.

 

Kaneko was also there, currently helping Yoruichi hand out sitting pillows to everyone.  Catching Kisuke's eye, she gave him an oddly shy smile.  "Is it okay that we're here?" she asked.

 

"Of course," Kisuke said amiably, making his way toward the fire pit.  "I brought enough food for everyone.  And thanks for the help," he said, depositing the bags upon one of the unoccupied boxes.  "Okay, uhhh… I _think_ I have plates…"

 

"Kitchen, second row, third from—" Yoruichi began, but seemed to think better of it and got up.  "C'mon, I'll show you."

 

Kisuke followed Yoruichi into the kitchen, where she pulled out a crate labeled _Kitchenware_ and knelt down on the floor to open it, now in search of the utensils and dishware he had brought over from the Urahara estate. 

 

"You sure your healing arm can handle the _massive_ burden of seven plates?" she asked.

 

 _Oh, she is **not** letting that go.  _ Kisuke leaned against the kitchen cabinets, grinning as he watched her pull out the plates one by one.  "I got you pot stickers," he said.

 

Yoruichi paused momentarily, rolling her eyes up to look at him, her brow furrowed.  "Where from?"

 

"Suzuki's.  Made sure he put extra ginger in all of them."

 

"Extra extra?"

 

"Extra extra.  That second package is all yours."

 

Yoruichi piled up the plates and stood up, handing him the stack, a mild scowl still on her face.  "You think you're so _slick_ ," she said.

 

Kisuke simply grinned at her, waiting for the inevitable shift in her expression.  Not relenting quite yet, Yoruichi maintained her dignified frown, though he could see the stirrings of amusement in her eyes.

 

"Kitchenware is all here, along with the _nine_ crates you labeled _Miscellaneous_ ," she said.  "Good luck sorting _that_ out.  Books, journals and science crap are in the lab—"

 

"You mean the stud—"

 

"The _lab_.  Clothes and linen are all upstairs, but I'm thinking I should get your futon out.  You only have four pillows."

 

"Sure, go ahead," Kisuke told her.  "I'll set out that plate of pot stickers for you."

 

"You know, one day, it'll take more than food to appease my wrath," she said.  Before she turned her heel to leave the kitchen, he caught just the briefest glimpse of a grin on her lips.

 

Though the house was still practically empty save for the many crates holding his belongings, none of his six guests seemed to mind as they all relaxed by the small fire, engaged in conversation and a shared meal.  Plates were emptied and refilled many times over, and by the time their appetites were sated, it was nightfall. 

 

Yoruichi had unearthed a set of hanafuda cards from one of his boxes and had gotten a game started.  Kisuke had opted out, choosing instead to open up a bottle of sake and watch the game, carrying a relaxed, casual conversation with Harada and Kūkaku who had decided to join him.  Resting his back against a sturdy box, he enjoyed the sweet, post-meal lethargy and the warmth of the fire nearby, only half listening to Harada and Kūkaku, allowing his mind to wander elsewhere.

 

He had spent countless hours agonizing over how his mother might have felt about some of his latest choices, but watching the lively game of cards unfolding before his eyes, he hoped she would have approved of at least one: this small, modest cottage that had been left to wither for nearly one hundred and thirty years was full of life once again.  Gaze trained on Yoruichi, he smiled as he saw her laugh wickedly at the others' frustration for her third consecutive victory, and he was certain the sight would have made his mother smile as well.

 

As his eyes fell upon the person seated right across Yoruichi, however, Kisuke's smile faltered.

 

When it came to meeting and getting to know Shiba Kaien, he had always been convinced of two things: that it would be inevitable, given both his own and Shiba's relationship to Yoruichi, and that it would be unpleasant.  Envying and resenting the person who was betrothed to Yoruichi had always been a given, but what Kisuke had never expected was to actually _like_ said person.

 

It was far easier to think of Yoruichi's intended as this faceless, quite possibly arrogant noble whom she would only begrudgingly accept and tolerate.  But Shiba Kaien was kind, humble, handsome, could easily carry an intelligent conversation, and worst of all, he got along with Yoruichi.  He made her laugh.  He treated her with respect.  He could very possibly make her happy in the future. 

 

Kisuke had never felt such burning hatred for another person before.

 

Such was the intensity of this sudden spike of resentment, that he had to excuse himself and step outside to the patio for some much-needed fresh air.  Dropping down onto the deck he let out a sigh, his fingers toying with the unruly strand of hair tickling the bridge of his nose.  What the hell was wrong with him?  Didn't he **want** her to be happy? Would it be better if she spent the rest of her life with someone she couldn't stand, just so he could feel superior to her husband?

 

_…...Yes._

 

Burying his face into his palms, he shook his head.  _You are the **worst** , most disgusting bastard to have ever walked this land._ 

 

Coming to terms with the fact that he could never realistically end up with Yoruichi had been a hard pill to swallow, so he had always found solace in the hope that whoever her parents chose for her, that man would ultimately never develop the kind of intimacy _he_ had with her.  It wasn't much, but it was all the comfort he could ever hope to draw from that inescapable situation. 

 

It was also the pettiest, vilest thought he'd ever had, as well as the most compelling argument against ever acting on his feelings.  If there was one thing he had enough clarity to accept and recognize, it was the fact that Yoruichi deserved a good, kind man.  

 

Wrapping up his haori around him more tightly, Kisuke brought his knees up to his chest and rested his chin upon them, weathering the bracing cold of the night.  He didn't think it would be advisable to stay indoors right now.  With everything that had happened over the last few months, he could definitely do without any added emotional burden.

 

He couldn't have been gone for too long, certainly not long enough to merit anyone's growing suspicion of his absence, but apparently someone _had_ decided to join him outside.  It was Kūkaku, carrying the open sake bottle.

 

She took a seat next to him, then handed him a glass which she quickly filled up, and said nothing for a long time, simply gazing at the overgrowth in his back garden while sipping her own drink.  Eventually, she broke the silence.  "Sucks, doesn't it?" she said.  "That whole no parents thing?  I'm sorry you had to experience it.  But… y'know… you're in company."

 

"Thank you."

 

Kūkaku turned to him, holding up her glass in a toast.  "May they… Shit, I dunno… I kinda hope my parents got to reincarnate as someone leading an easy life.  Maybe a sweet old lady's lapdogs or something."

 

Kisuke chuckled at the sound of that.  In all honesty, he had tried not to dwell too much on the matter of his mother's possible reincarnation.  Not every soul entered the cycle as it was, and even if there was a way to ascertain that she had, he had a feeling he might be tempted to spend the rest of his life looking for her.  "That's… actually a rather comforting thought.  Mind if I steal your wish?" he said, raising his glass as well.

 

"Nope, go ahead," Kūkaku said, and they brought their glasses together, each taking a long sip in honor of the dead.  Kūkaku drained her glass, then set it down carefully, shifting her gaze toward the moon.  "Wanna hear a story?  It's not very uplifting, but it's applicable here and I think you'll appreciate it.

 

"Applicable to what?  Death?"

 

"Actually, the opposite of that," she said.  "There once was this boy.  He was very good friends with a girl.  They genuinely liked each other's company.  Their parents wanted them to marry, thinking it was a good match, but for one thing, the girl wasn't interested in him, not in that way.  More importantly, the boy was only interested in other boys."

 

Kisuke tried to be discreet as his gaze instantly shifted to her, even though she wasn't looking at him.  _Is she…?  Is she saying…?_   Was she talking about her brother?

 

"Long story short," Kūkaku went on.  "The girl convinced the boy to break off the engagement; she got him to see that they could never make each other truly happy.  In the end, however, it didn't really matter.  Not when he couldn't see that _he_ was responsible for creating his own happiness.  His parents chose someone else for him, albeit someone very sweet and kind.  They even had a child, which I'm sure was the sole positive side in that whole mess… He always wanted kids.  I bet he's a great father," she said, her half-lidded eyes still staring at the moon.

 

 _She's talking about herself._   Kisuke had no idea how to respond to her confession.  For all the time he had spent in Kūkaku's company over the last year, they weren't really close.  Not nearly as close as she was with Yoruichi.

 

"The moral of the story," she said, and she finally turned to look at him.  "Is that all this dedication to honoring your family's wishes is commendable and all, but it's never worth making yourself miserable over.  Witnessing it once was one time too many.  I don't want to see it happen again to my brother and my best friend."

 

"I don't… I don't see what this has to do with m—"

 

" _Please_ ," Kūkaku said, giving him a disparaging glare.  "Just… talk to her, won't you?  I guarantee you won't be disappointed."

 

It might have been kinder if she had taken out a dagger and stabbed him through the chest.  If there was the one thing he didn't need right now, it was confirmation that he hadn't been delusional to hope that Yoruichi might return his feelings.

 

"I think… you might have misunderstood your friend," Kisuke said.  "The boy, that is.  Maybe… Maybe it was a self-defense mechanism, you know?" he said, now staring at his knees.  "Some people aren't really satisfied with fleeting happiness; they have greedy hearts.  Maybe he knew that experiencing a taste of it, only to have it torn away later would destroy him."

 

"Who says his happiness would've been temporary?"

 

"Well, given his options, I'd say it was a certainty," Kisuke said.  "It doesn't matter whether he chose to be with the person he loved in secrecy or out in the open: in one case, he would be living a lie, and in the other, he would be forcing his lover to go against his family and everything that meant something to him in the first place.  Not a recipe for happiness, either."

 

"I never mentioned his lover's family," Kūkaku said, looking smug.  "Looks like s _omeone's_ projecting."

 

Kisuke indulged her with a grin of his own just for a moment, before his face fell again.  "You cannot mourn over something you've never had, simple as that," he said, taking in a deep breath. "This is the last we'll ever talk of this, yes?"

 

Kūkaku met his eye, all playfulness draining away from her expression.  He could see she understood that there was no rancor behind his words, but she also seemed to understand that this was a conversation that would never and should never take place again.  She nodded at him in response.

 

"Good," Kisuke said.  "So… cooking.  Any pointers there?"

 

Kūkaku laughed, and went about refilling their glasses.

 

* * *

 

 

**FEBRUARY 20 TH, 129 B.H.I., URAHARA RESIDENCE, 2ND DISCTRICT, NORTHWEST RUKONGAI**

 

Sinking down to the floor, head leaning back against the wall separating Kisuke's study from the patio, Yoruichi wrapped her arms around her legs, unsure of what to think.  She didn't know what she had expected to hear when she'd first noticed Kisuke and Kūkaku's absence and went looking for them, but that certainly wasn't it.

 

Was she supposed to be shocked by the revelation of how he felt for her?  Though he hadn't verbally confirmed anything of the sort, when Kūkaku had implied the feelings were mutual, she had felt it, the shift in his spiritual pressure: a sudden surge of pure joy, closely followed by agony.  Much like her own reaction.

 

She wasn't naïve enough to claim that she'd had no earthly idea.  She had caught him staring, more than once, and she knew that she had a friend for life in him, that he would do anything for her.  What she hadn't known until now was whether the two would ever meet in the middle.  To be perfectly honest with herself, she hadn't known whether her own feelings for him had been more than deep platonic affection.

 

She supposed there was no longer any need to wonder: the moment she'd sensed her own feelings mirrored within him, there was no longer any question as to whether she had truly fallen for him or not.

 

_"It doesn't matter whether he chose to be with the person he loved in secrecy or out in the open: in one case, he would be living a lie, and in the other, he would be forcing his lover to go against his family and everything that meant something to him in the first place."_

_You idiot._  

 

For someone with the uncanny ability to see past irrelevant details and get to the heart of a matter, he had missed the point entirely when it came to this.

 

In his mind, there was no greater burden than asking her to live a lie.  In _her_ mind, the greatest burden would be living with the consequences of such a lie being inevitably discovered.  He had no idea, the lengths her father was capable of reaching when it came to protecting his pride.  And if he did, but simply did not care, he was an even greater fool than she had originally thought.

 

Keeping their continued friendship a secret, though complicated and at times exhilarating, had in no way prepared them for what it might be like, to keep a different sort of relationship under wraps.  Besides, the consequences of discovery were fairly innocuous for the former.  It was a game for children, one which paled in comparison to the games adults played.  And they were no longer children themselves, after all.

 

If nothing else, Yoruichi had made a promise, one which she never intended to betray.

 

_I will protect him with my life, watch over him for as long as I draw breath, you have my word._

 

As she stood up to return to the living room, not feeling like eavesdropping on the conversation any longer, she heard footsteps behind her: Kūkaku was coming back inside.  Though she hurried her pace, there was no way to move fast enough without running and alerting them to her presence.  She had barely reached the threshold to the study when Kūkaku slid the doors open.

 

 _Dammit._   There was no point in pretending she hadn't been caught in the act.

 

Not saying a word, Kūkaku closed the door behind her again –apparently Kisuke was staying outside- and approached her, an indecipherable look in her eyes.  "You're getting pretty good at cloaking your spiritual pressure," she said, keeping her voice low.

 

"Am I?  Wasn't really trying," Yoruichi said with a shrug, then swiftly turned toward the living room without sparing a glance Kūkaku's way.  "Hey, Kotone!"

 

Kotone looked up from her cards questioningly.

 

"Kisuke's being all mopey out there.  By _himself_ ," Yoruichi said, giving her a smirk as she spoke that last word.  "Why don't you go keep him company?  I'll take your place in the game."

 

The girl blushed deeply, looking as though she wished Yoruichi had been a little more discreet, but she placed her cards down and stood up, quickly brushing past them to step outside.

 

Kūkaku watched the whole exchange in stunned silence, and before Yoruichi could return to the living room, she placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her.  "You heard," she said, her expression one of both concern and pity.

 

 _Don't look at me like that_.  _Don't— It's better this way._ "Heard what?"

 

Letting out a huff, Kūkaku threw her hands in the air.  "Ugh, you know what?  Suit yourselves.  Make a damn Kabuki play out of your lives, see if I care," she said, then stalked into the living room, ignoring the puzzled looks she received from Kaien.

 

Yoruichi folded her arms before her chest, staring at the floor and trying to convince herself that she truly believed what she had just told Kūkaku.  _It is, it **really** — It may not feel like it now, but…_  She turned toward the patio, seeing that Kotone had closed the door behind her.  She could make out both her and Kisuke silhouetted behind the semi-transparent frame.

 

"Oiiii, Yoruichi!  Are you coming or not?" called Kaien from inside.

 

Looking away, she took a deep breath and tried not to picture what might be happening outside.  "Yeah, be right there," she said, then forced herself to return inside.  

 

* * *

 

 

From shallow riverbanks to lush forests, from roaring waterfalls to steep cliffs, she searched and searched again every single time she entered her world, looking for any sign of the mysterious, beautiful cat. 

 

On her very first tries, she had been unable to catch neither sight nor sound of it, but she could feel its eyes on her back as she traversed the forest from morning till dusk.  It was on her fifth such attempt that the creature had allowed itself to be seen –for she was certain it was no accident- and even then, it was only in small flashes of ochre fur or golden eyes that peeked out of the thick jungle for a split moment, before blending into the surroundings again.  At first, she thought the cat might have been toying with her, taking its sweet time to study her, but she was proven wrong when she realized that there was a distinct pattern in its movements and mannerisms that always repeated itself:

 

The cat wasn't hiding from her, it was _guiding_ her.

 

With every new venture into the forest, she would make it deeper and deeper before losing sight of the creature, then spend the remaining few hours in frustration; the trail had grown cold, which was when she would give up for the day and return to reality.  It didn't help that the cat never showed itself before dusk, making it harder for her to navigate through the jungle once the sunlight began to thin out.  But the more she grew accustomed to the cat's lighting fast movements and learned how to recognize subtle clues left behind in the forest, the more the cat revealed of itself. 

 

It was nearing dusk now, and Yoruichi was hurrying along the path, too focused on the trail to mind the errant twigs that left their marks along her exposed arms, or the jagged rocks hidden deep into the mud that knifed into her bare feet; she had precious little sunlight left.  The cat's spotted, bushy tail had just disappeared through a small opening between two dense, leafy bushes.  Yoruichi brushed the leaves aside and sped through, letting out an angry huff as a few wayward locks of her hair came got stuck on her damp face.  She brushed it aside impatiently, and the moment she regained her vision, she came to a sudden halt, her toes digging into the mud as she gaped at the sight before her.

 

The cat stood atop a large boulder, its impossibly long tail pointing up merrily.  Yoruichi swallowed hard, very wary of her movements.  The last time she had been this close to the creature, she had scared it away.  On this occasion, however, the cat didn't seem to be the least bit scared of her.  Its stance might even indicate that it had been waiting for her.  She didn't know if it was the size of its tail –truly it was almost the length of its entire body- or its elusiveness that had made the creature much larger in her imagination, but right now, upon closer inspection, she could see that it was far smaller than she'd originally thought.  From head to rump, it would just about reach her waist if they were to lay down side-by-side, and if they stood next to each other, she suspected it would be tall enough to bump its head slightly above her knees.

 

Yoruichi bit her lip, taking a first, cautious step forward, and the cat leapt off the boulder at once.  She was about to curse herself for not being more patient, when she saw that it wasn't running away.  Instead, it headed straight for a tall, moss-covered tree and latched itself into the trunk, starting to climb up with remarkable effortlessness.  About half-way up, it stopped to look over its shoulder and straight at her, then continued to scale up the tree like it was the easiest thing in the world.  Once the creature reached the crown, it balanced upon the thinner branches, zooming across them smoothly with its tail ramrod straight and spinning like a propeller.  The cat came to rest upon a thick branch, plopping down on its belly and letting its limbs hang down carelessly.  Its eyes sought her own, and it stared straight at her.  No words were spoken, but the inferred message was perfectly clear: "Your turn."      

 

Yoruichi cringed as she took in the distance from the top branches to the ground.  Skilled though she was in climbing, there were three major issues she could pinpoint by merely looking at the tree: there were few discernible footholds, the entire trunk was covered in moss, and the air in this world was very sparse in spiritual particles, which meant that it would take a huge amount of effort to form her own footholds or otherwise use her spiritual pressure. 

 

_And most importantly… I don't have claws._

 

Taking in a deep breath, she approached the tree warily, sinking her fingers into the slippery moss.  The coating wasn't particularly thick; she could feel the abrasive tree bark beneath.  _If I take it slow,_ she thought as she looked up along the length of the tree.  _It's doable._  

 

Figuring the best method to go about this task was to eliminate as many chances of slipping as possible, she pawed at the bark until she had a firm hold with her hands, then held on and wrapped her legs tightly around the trunk.  _Easy does it…_   Bit by bit, she would reposition her hands and pull herself up, careful to maintain a steady grip.  Her progress was smooth and steady, but somewhere around the half way mark, her arm muscles began to protest.  Tightening the grip of her legs, Yoruichi wrapped her arms around the trunk and did the one thing she had been cautioning herself _not_ to do the whole way up: she looked down.

 

 _Shit, SHIT._ Wincing, she looked away from the dizzying drop to the ground and pressed her forehead against the tree, panting.  As sweat trickled down her nose and temple, she glanced up toward the cat; it was watching her intently, still in the same, relaxed pose.  "Couldn't have picked another tree," Yoruichi muttered at it.  The cat lifted one front limb to fold against the thick branch and set its chin upon it in response.

 

Sighing, Yoruichi felt around the trunk for a good first grip, determined to get this over with as quickly as possible.  The last few meters were absolute hell: the entire length of her arms was burning, from shoulder to wrist, and she was certain she had split more than a couple of nails when digging into the bark.  When she reached the crown, the creature's tail sprang up, swishing about merrily as it observed her progress.  _Okay, okay, okay, okay… Do **not** hurry here, or this will all have been for nothing,_ she thought as she tried to make the transition to the crown.  Biting down on her lip hard, holding her breath, she relinquished one hand and swiftly grabbed hold of the branch above, pulling herself up.  She only allowed herself to breathe again once she had climbed onto a sturdy fork, flattening herself against the thick bough.  As she tried to catch her breath, blood pumping in her ears, she heard a rustling sound somewhere nearby, and opened her eyes just in time to see a shadow dash over her.

 

The cat landed gracefully a couple of meters away along the bough, turning around to face her and lying down upon the bark, its sharp yellow eyes locking with hers.  Yoruichi pushed a few moist tendrils of hair away from her face, still struggling to catch her breath.  This time, she didn't dare move a single muscle, not only because she was afraid she might topple to the ground, but deciding it was best she allowed the creature to make the first move.  The cat brought its fluffy, thick paws forward and rested its chin upon them, eyeing her curiously, but making no other movement save for the occasional swish of its tail.

 

"You don't talk much, do you?" Yoruichi said, pushing herself upright and resting her back against the trunk of the tree.

 

The cat blinked very slowly at her.

 

"That's okay… we can just sit here," she said, sinking into a more comfortable position. 

 

After the exertion of the climb, there was a sweet, very dull ache permeating her body, allowing her to relax and forget all about the strange locale, or the odd animal and the confusing ways it chose to communicate with her.  For now, she could simply appreciate the beauty of the dense forest, basking in her achievement as the last few rays of sunlight shyly peeked through the openings in the canopy. 

 

Before she knew it, her eyes slipped shut and she succumbed to a content, peaceful sleep.      

 

 

**MARCH 1 ST, 129 B.H.I., WOMEN'S DORMITORIES, SPIRITUAL ARTS ACADEMY, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

Yoruichi awoke to the sight of Rei rolling her futon into a thick cylinder.  She was already dressed in her uniform, her short blonde hair in its usual, sleeked-back style.  As soon as she realized her roommate was awake, Rei turned toward her, her broad smile reaching her bright green eyes.

 

"Morning!" she said.

 

Yoruichi stretched out her legs, arms still wrapped tightly around her pillow.  "Good morning," she said sleepily.

 

"Wow, you look like you had a good night's rest."

 

"Mmm, I did," Yoruichi said, rolling onto her back and rubbing her palms over her eyes.

 

"I barely slept," Rei said as she stood up on her feet, carrying her rolled up futon.  "I keep having this nightmare that Instructor Aoki calls me forward for the practical and my bakudō just keep exploding in my face."

 

It took a moment for Rei's words to start making sense, which was when Yoruichi realized it was the last day of classes for the semester.  There was only a weekend left for any serious revision, and come Monday, the two-week slog of exam period would officially begin.

 

And Kisuke had yet to return to school.

 

As Yoruichi went about her morning routine, she wondered whether he would even remember exams were coming up, considering everything that had happened lately.  The customary fifty day mourning period wasn't over yet, and under different circumstances, he would be perfectly excused from attending the Academy.  She wasn't so certain what the policy was concerning exams. 

 

Pulling her hair up into a ponytail, she thought of the last time she had seen him, when they'd all helped him move into his new home.  He hadn't made any attempt to contact her since, and neither had she, partly because she wanted to give him some time alone to adapt to his new life, and party because… well…

 

Flattening her hands against the vanity, Yoruichi sighed at her reflection. 

 

 ** _You_** _put this in motion.  Not that it wouldn't have happened sooner or later, but…_ Avoiding Kisuke for an indeterminate amount of time was not an option, or at least not one she was content with, no matter what the alternative was.

 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, the cat purred in approval of her determination.

 

* * *

 

**MARCH 2 ND, 129 B.H.I., THE TRAINING GROUNDS, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

She was light, lighter than any other sword he had ever handled.  Her hilt fit in his grip as though it had been molded for his hand and his alone.  His fingers flexed and wrapped around the hilt again, his left arm still a little stiff as he brought it forward to grasp her with both hands; reconditioning it to its normal strength and agility would take some time, but he could already feel the results of his training.

 

Sweat collecting beneath his hairline and down his lower back, Kisuke closed his eyes and swung the blade downward slowly, reveling in the sweet ache that came with pushing a body to achieve greater heights.

 

Benihime shivered underneath his palm, her distant voice becoming clearer with every move, every thrust, ever jab that cut through the air, letting out a soft, subtle whistling; it echoed in his head like an irresistible melody, beating in sync with his heart.

 

His eyes slipped open.

 

"Sing, Benihime!"

 

The arc of red energy flew out of Benihime's blade as he swung her up, a shrill cry not unlike that pf a bird piercing the silence of the Training Grounds.  The surge of power connected with a distant cliff in a thundering blast.

 

His chest rising and falling as he panted, Kisuke watched the edge of the cliff get reduced to rubble, a grin breaking out on his lips.  He held the sword up before him, smiling at it fondly.

 

 _She really is a beauty,_ he thought, examining the dark, razor-sharp blade, the long hilt, the few, elegant touches of crimson in the cord and tassel.

 

 ** _"My, my… Don't I feel pampered,"_** Benihime said.  **_"All this care and attention…"_**

 

Kisuke chuckled.  _Yes, well… I'm afraid that's about it for today.  My arm is still not at one hundred per cent and I've been advised to take it slow._

 

Giving the hilt one last caress, he twisted his wrist, Benihime morphing back into her sealed form as he slipped her back into the sheath secured in his obi.  _I'll see you again tomorrow, Benihime._  

 

Taking in a deep breath, Kisuke allowed his body to relax and dropped down to his knees, retrieving his water canteen from his bag.  He took a seat down gingerly, back resting against a boulder, and downed nearly half the canteen's contents.  Letting out a sigh, he stretched his legs and allowed his eyes to wander while he caught his breath.  And it was then that he saw her, a few cliffs away, kneeling down on one knee: Yoruichi.

 

Kisuke set the canteen down slowly, his eyes not leaving her.  She sat far enough that he couldn't make out the expression on her face, but it was clear she had been watching him.  For how long, he couldn't tell.  Despite having already quenched his thirst, Kisuke felt his throat go dry again in milliseconds upon sight of her.  They hadn't seen each other ever since his official move to his new home.  Ever since…

 

Though he'd been relatively sober that night, whenever he tried to recall any events it all came back to him in flashes, not a fully intact memory to be found after Kūkaku had returned indoors.  He remembered their talk all too well, but everything after Kaneko had stepped outside had become one big, convoluted mess.  They had spoken briefly, she had asked about his recuperation, then the subject had turned to the Kyōto mission, at which point Kaneko had inexplicably turned even shier than she had been all evening.  It had all started making a little more sense once she'd pulled him forward and pressed her lips against his.

 

He'd remembered then, Yoruichi's throwaway comment all those months ago; he'd never seriously entertained it, believing that Kaneko may have simply taken a liking to him and Yoruichi had either misinterpreted her intentions or simply wanted to get a rise out of him.  In retrospect, he didn't know what to make of the fact that Yoruichi had so casually informed him of Kaneko's feelings for him.  Quite frankly, in between trying to work out that puzzle and recalling Kūkaku's earlier words, he had been too confused to even process the kiss until Kaneko had pulled away.

 

The rest of the night after that awkward exchange was when all memories began to bleed into one another.  He and Kaneko had talked again, at some point he had kissed her back – _I… I think?-_ then he recalled everyone leaving for the night – _Did I ever say goodnight to Yoruichi?-_ at some point Kaneko had left as well, or perhaps she had left first, and next thing he knew, he was lying down on his futon in the living room, wondering if he had just hallucinated the entire evening.

 

For the next seven days he had been trying to piece everything together, his mind far too overwhelmed with thoughts of his mother, of Yoruichi, his worries over maintaining an entire house on his own, and what had happened with Kaneko.  At first, the solitude had been a massive relief, but with each passing day, he was becoming more and more desperate for some company, wishing people would stop respecting his mourning period and simply show up if only to say hello.  Being alone with his thoughts for too long had only served to drive him to the edge.

 

To his great surprise, it was Benihime who had pulled him out of his slump.  For three days now, he had found solace in training with her and escaping into a world where things were infinitely simpler.

 

Until now.

 

Kisuke watched as Yoruichi rose up to her feet, and he knew he only had a split second to collect himself: she could cover the distance in a single jump within the blink of an eye.  Part of him knew it was ridiculous, feeling like he had betrayed her by deciding to give this situation with Kaneko a go and see where it might lead, and yet… Would she be angry at him?  Would this cause them to drift apart again?  If there was one thing he would do anything to avoid, it would be coming so close to losing her again.

 

Yoruichi reappeared a few feet away from him, putting an effective end to his agony.  Upon first glance she didn't appear to be put off, but there was a strange, guarded look in her eyes, as though she didn't know quite how to address him.

 

She sauntered forward slowly, the slight frown on her face giving way to a strained smile.  "You've been holding out on me," she said, pointing toward his sword.

 

So she _had_ witnessed it all.  "It was a very recent development," he said, hoping it didn't sound like he was making excuses.

 

Yoruichi nodded, resting the balls of her hands against her hips and scuffing the ground with one foot.  "What's his name?"

 

 _Well… Fuck._ He had known he would never share neither his conversations nor Benihime's appearance with Yoruichi, _ever_ , but he was now coming to realize there was no escaping revealing her name.  And that alone was plenty illuminating.  He couldn't very well lie; at some point or another, he would have to unseal her before Yoruichi's eyes and that would be that.  Swallowing hard, he forced himself to speak.  "Benihime."

 

"Benih—?" Yoruichi began to say, only to come to a stop.  He supposed there was no hiding the gender, either, not with a name like Crimson _Princess_.  "It's a _woman_?" she asked, mouth slightly agape at the revelation.

 

Kisuke nodded.

 

"Wow, I… I don't think I've ever heard of a Soul Cutter spirit whose gender didn't match the wielder's."

 

"Captain Kyōraku's.  I looked it up," Kisuke said, giving her a sheepish grin.

 

Yoruichi grinned back at him.  "I'll bet you did.  So… Benihime.  Crimson Princess," she said, and what he had hoped wouldn't happen, did: as she mulled the name over, it seemed to ring some sort of bell in her.  And of course it would have: she was the heiress to the Court of Four Maples.  "Like the maple?" she asked, looking genuinely surprised.

 

 ** _"Oh, this ought to be good,"_** Benihime said, choosing – _Naturally_ \- the worst possible moment to take an interest in the conversation.

 

Careful not to allow panic to set in his eyes, Kisuke quickly tried to come up with a semi-convincing lie.  "Actually, I was thinking it might be a reference to the azalea."

 

**_"No, you don't."_ **

 

"Oh," Yoruichi said.  "I thought that was the Crimson _Queen_." 

 

**_"She's right."_ **

 

"Well, there's a blossom on the guard that looks an awful lot like an azalea to me."

 

**_"It_ truly _doesn't."_**

_BENIHIME!_

 

Much to his relief, Yoruichi decided to drop the questioning and accepted his explanation.  "So… Can I see her?"

 

Nodding at her, Kisuke just then realized he hadn't moved an inch since she had arrived; he was still sitting on the ground.  Hurrying up to his feet, he unsheathed his sword and held it out.  "Awaken, Benihime."

 

Yoruichi's eyes widened slightly at Benihime's transformation, shining with a glimmer of both curiosity and a touch of coveting.  He knew she must have been attempting to achieve first release day and night, but much like he hadn't confided in her about his struggles, she hadn't either.  There was something deeply personal about a Soul Reaper's relationship to their weapon; this wasn't the sort of training they could undertake together.  His own reasons for choosing not to share the burden of his troubles with Benihime made sense to him, even in retrospect, and it made him wonder what it could be that was making Yoruichi equally secretive.

 

Looking up at him, Yoruichi bit her lower lip gently.  "May I…?"

 

Much like inquiries into a person's inner world were taboo, so was touching another's weapon outside of combat.  Kisuke knew she was well aware of this.  Yet she had dared to ask, and he found that he could not deny her.  After all, she already held a piece of his soul.

 

Smiling at her, Kisuke deposited Benihime gently into her waiting hands.  With as much care as she was capable of, Yoruichi slipped one hand down at the hilt and placed the other under the flat of the blade.  He could see that her eyes lingered a little too long on the oval guard and the blossom carving on it, but she didn't reopen that conversation.  "She's… she's really beautiful.  Very elegant.  Congratulations."

 

"Thank you."

 

She handed Benihime back to him, and when he had placed her back into her sheath, Kisuke saw that any traces of caution in her earlier expression had disappeared.  Instead, she looked like she always did, like the Yoruichi he knew so well.

 

"So… Have you had breakfast?" she asked.

 

"Not yet."

 

"Go wash up and head over to Okada's.  I'll meet you there after I swing by my dorm."

 

"What do you—?"

 

"I'm bringing back books and notes.  You've got a lot of catching up to do and it's almost exam period."

 

Kisuke stared at her, a little thrown by the sudden shift in both the conversation and the atmosphere.  "Yoruichi, I honestly don't ca—"

 

"I do," she said resolutely.  " _I_ care.  I'm not going to be satisfied beating you just because you didn't have time to study hard enough.  You'll study, you'll work your _ass_ off, and _then_ I'll still beat you for top of the class, got it?"

 

 _The more things change…_  Kisuke smiled at her, marveling at how someone he knew so intimately still had the capacity to surprise him on a regular basis.

 

"Yes, ma'am."

 

* * *

 

 

Little by little, the fauna grew accustomed to her presence.

 

Tiny, graphite-colored geckos peeking out from rock outcroppings; boars and piglets warily watching her streak past the forest; tawny, spotted pit vipers coiling unto themselves and rattling their tails in warning whenever she got too close.  Even the ever-elusive, dusky brown wildcats that populated the area no longer hid from her, regarding her more like a curiosity, an anomaly in their otherwise balanced ecosystem.

 

In their world, there was only room for one at the top of the food chain and it was certainly not her.  

 

Barely a few minutes ago, Yoruichi had watched in awe as the cat had leapt off its perch upon a branch to catch a small falcon mid-flight in its maw.  Without pausing for a single beat, as the bird twitched futilely in between the creature's sharp teeth, the cat landed vertically up against a tree trunk, all four sets of claws digging into the bark.  Its climb up was swift and graceful, and all she could do was wait and watch in fascination as it enjoyed its meal in peace.  Then, as though this had been nothing but a pleasant little break in their excursion, the cat set off again and Yoruichi scampered after it.

 

The sun was beginning to set in the sky above when the creature led her out of the jungle, and into a familiar setting.  It didn't take her long to realize she was being guided over to the stream floating down the rock bed, where they had first met.  The cat ran ahead and came to a stop by the edge of the stream, crouching down to slake its thirst.  Yoruichi followed, still keeping a small, respectful distance, and knelt down by the hard rock bed to have a drink and splash some cold water across her face.  As she caught her breath and rubbed her sore muscles, the orange sun dipped low behind the mountain line in the distance. 

 

She turned to look at her feline companion, and for the first time, she was struck by the very power the small animal exuded even in near stillness.  Its muzzle was still coated in places by the blood of its kill, and there was a quiet fire burning within its eyes.  For all its occasional playfulness in her presence, it was a predator, a creature of unspeakable grace and beauty, a silent assassin operating in twilight. 

 

The cat raised its head once it had had its fill and stretched lazily, letting out a soft mewling sound very much at odds with its true, deadly nature.  Before pressing on, the cat turned to her, raising its rump impishly and pretending to get in position to pounce.  Instead, it jumped forward and circled around her once, its long tail brushing past her ankles, and it sped away, following the shallow stream up ahead.  _Just like a common housecat_ ,Yoruichi mused, smiling.

 

Wary of her footing this time around, she made certain to only step wherever the cat did, as they leapt onto the short ledges and followed the rock bed toward the foothills of the mountain.  The more they approached, the more the stream began to resemble a river.  Somewhere up ahead, she could her the roaring of another, far greater waterfall.  _Must be the source of the water._   When the sound of the rushing water concealed any and all sounds of the jungle and Yoruichi could feel a light, cool mist against her skin, she knew they had arrived.

 

The trail came to its end in a small pool at the foothills of the mountain.  The tall, frothing waterfall cascaded down the span of a sharp cliff, feeding into the stream they had just followed up.  Looking up, following the length of the waterfall, Yoruichi could see that its origin was somewhere within the green mountains up above. 

 

Around the pool, the dense forest continued, leading to an as of yet unexplored part of this world.  Yoruichi had expected to be led back into the jungle, but the cat surprised her by trotting around the bank and over to the tree line nearest to the cliff.  To her chagrin, the cat began scaling up the leftmost tree.

 

_Ugh, **again** with the damn trees?_

 

As much as she enjoyed their little adventures and treks into the forest together, she had always assumed that the cat had been leading her toward something special as they explored more and more of the forest.  Heading up the trees, however, was a dead-end: they only barely cleared the one-third mark of the length of the cliff, and there was nowhere to go from there. 

 

Was this a test?  Hadn't she already proven her worth in this exact same task?

 

Begrudgingly, Yoruichi followed behind the cat, finding that the climb was far more treacherous than she had originally assumed: the tree trunks were too close together for one thing, and though the way up was riddled with branches that could had served as footholds, they were so thin and brittle that relying on them for a firm grip would be calamitous.  Even as she actively avoided them, her top and hakama kept getting snagged during the climb, once or twice nearly costing her her balance.   

 

Even when mired in her frustration, she couldn't help but be impressed at the cat's agility as it bent its spine to slip in between twigs, or bit down upon the long, cascading vines to swing back and forth between trees in search of the optimum path.  Every now and then, it would glance down to check on her progress, but it otherwise pressed on ahead, as calm as still waters.  When it neared the crown, instead of trying to secure a comfortable resting place, it turned to its left, glancing toward the rushing waterfall a few meters away and, to her shock, it jumped.

 

Yoruichi was about to yell a futile warning, when the cat landed against the coarse face of the cliff, its front claws digging into the stone.  Its hind paws seemed to be resting against something; Yoruichi took a closer look at the cliff, squinting, and noticed the slightly darker line of rock running along the cliff's width, reaching all the way behind the water stream.  There was a very narrow outcropping that formed a path of sorts, and once the cat had a firm enough footing, it released its front claws and landed fully upon the slender strip of rock.  It was only then that it turned to look at her again.

 

Too mesmerized by the sight, Yoruichi didn't pay attention to the climb, moving almost mechanically as she continued to gape at the cat.  She heard a snap, and she only had a split second's warning that she had just made a serious error.  She felt herself fall back-first, the broken twig clenched tightly in her fist as panic bloomed in the pit of her stomach and spread to every inch of her body lighting fast.  Without any conscious thought whatsoever she reached out blindly, hands scraping against the tree bark, desperately searching for something, _anything_ to grab a hold of and stop her fall.      

 

Her aching, bleeding hand suddenly wrapped around something slick and slightly spongy and Yoruichi instantly clenched her fist, reaching out with her other hand to secure a better grip.  Her entire body was jerked down violently as she found herself upright again; the vine stretched and tightened upon bearing the full brunt of her weight, and Yoruichi could feel the constant friction set her palms aflame as she clamped down, fighting against the slippery vine. 

 

By the time she came to a stop, she had wrapped herself entirely around the vine, her throbbing hands and whole body shaking at the rush of adrenaline.  Her heart hammering in her chest, Yoruichi chanced a glance upward in search of the cat, but found its essence had already disappeared from the vicinity.

 

**APRIL 13 TH, 129 B.H.I., WOMEN'S DORMITORIES, SPIRITUAL ARTS ACADEMY, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

Yoruichi was grateful for waking up to an empty dorm; having to excuse her mounting anger and frustration to a bewildered Rei was not something she thought she could pull off without biting her roommate's head off.

 

Feeling very much like a caged animal, Yoruichi wasted little time indoors and hastily pulled her clothes on, eager for a distraction.  She decided upon a walk around campus, avoiding everything and everyone that was likely to become the blameless recipient of her fury.  It took nearly an hour of aimless wandering before she felt it was safe to be in the presence of others once again, which was when she decided she might as well dull her senses completely by getting some homework done. 

 

She was on the east wing of the library, perusing the elemental kidō section, when she noticed Kotone, Yōko and Tsubasa sitting behind a desk.  Oddly enough, the desk before them was completely empty and instead of studying, they were all staring intently at the person occupying the desk at the front row of the aisle: Kisuke.

 

There were piles upon piles of books stacked around him, a few of them laid open on the desk, but he currently only had eyes for the one on his lap.  Chair balanced on its hind legs as he leaned against the bookcase behind him, he was sitting cross-legged, left hand hovering over the corner of the book, right hand occasionally moving across the page of one of his leather-bound journals.  There was a smattering of balled-up pieces of paper scattered around his chair.

 

Returning the volume back onto the shelf, Yoruichi approached her friends and stared from them, to Kisuke and back again.  "Uhh… What are you doing?" she asked them.

 

"I came here to study and found Kotone stalking him," Yōko said.

 

"I was not stal—"

 

"So I asked her what she was doing," Yōko went on.  "And she goes _Just watch_ , so I did, and then Tsubasa came and asked us what we were doing and now we're all watching him."

 

"Watching _what_?" Yoruichi asked.

 

"He's been sitting like that for _two hours_ ," Kotone said. 

 

"So?"

 

"No, you don't get it, _exactly_ like that," Yōko said.  "Hasn't moved a muscle aside from turning the pages with one hand and taking notes with the other.  We've tried calling him, people have come and gone, asking him things, trying to reach around him for books, and he's just completely ignored them, we've been tossing balls of paper at him and he hasn't even flinched.  Nada."

 

 _So… he's being… Kisuke,_ Yoruichi thought, but didn't voice the words out loud.  Clearly, this was the first time any of them had come across him in his natural habitat.

 

"It's kind of soporific," Tsubasa said, following the movement of Kisuke's hand as he turned another page.  "I'm actually waiting to see what will happen when he's done with the book.  Maybe he'll just freeze in place."

 

Letting out a sigh, Yoruichi shook her head at them.  "Let me show you how it's done," she said, and circled around the stack that spread along the aisle, coming up right next to Kisuke's desk on the other side.  Though he was clearly blocking out everything in his surroundings, she decided to mask her spiritual pressure significantly, just in case.  She was about to crouch down, crawl under the desk and yank on one of the chair's legs, when he unexpectedly looked up, beaming at her.

 

"I figured it out!" he said, pushing his chair back on all four legs and tossing the book onto the desk.

 

Yoruichi didn't know whether to smile back at him or give him a sharp whack.  _Ugh, you idiot… You have **no**_ _idea what you've just done, do you?_  She didn't dare glance back at the girls just yet, Kotone in particular, but she knew they were all watching.  Forcing a grin on her lips, she placed her hands against the desk, looking at him over the wall of books.

 

"How to build a book fort?" she said.

 

"How to fix Fleshy!" Kisuke said.  "Poor show of trying to sneak up on me, by the way," he said, giving her a smug grin.

 

She tried very hard to stay frustrated with him, but it was near impossible when witnessing this return to his usual self after a particularly trying semester.  It was a joy to see him throw himself into one of his puzzles again, and she was glad to know that the circles under his eyes, an indication he was back to his typical, erratic sleep patterns, were the result of being knee-deep into one of his projects and not insomnia brought on by grief. 

 

"Congratulations," Yoruichi said, caving in and smiling at him.  "And uhh… your girlfriend's here," she said, motioning toward the back.

 

"So it turns out the core was malfun—" Kisuke began, but came to a stop upon fully comprehending her words.  He looked toward the desk a couple of rows down and grinned at the girls, waving and beckoning them over.

 

A fleeting look toward them as they approached told Yoruichi all she needed to know; though Kotone was actively trying to hide it behind a put-upon grin, there was a tightness in her expression.

 

"Nice to see you're back with us, Urahara," Tsubasa said.

 

"Sorry," Kisuke said, directing a warm grin Kotone's way.  "I get a little wrapped up in my head sometimes… Nothing else really registers."

 

Kotone's eyes flitted over to Yoruichi for a fraction of a second before settling back to Kisuke again.  "That's okay.  What were you reading?" she asked him. 

 

As Kisuke launched into an explanation about the malfunctioning elements of Fleshy's core, Kotone took a seat next to him, watching as he pointed in turn at various complicated diagrams in the textbook he'd been reading.  Yoruichi motioned at Yōko and Tsubasa to follow her, as she quietly withdrew from sight.

  
"…it's only a matter of replacing the relevant components, but—" Kisuke was saying, when he looked up to see Yoruichi and her two friends walking away.  He gave her a questioning look, but she simply waved at him goodbye, letting him know she was giving him and Kotone some privacy.  There's was a brief flash of disappointment in his eyes, but he waved back, then turned to his textbook once more.  "But, umm… They're not, er… exactly available in your round-of-the-mill market—"

 

"So you're researching how to build them on your own?" Yoruichi heard Kotone say as they turned the corner to the next aisle.

 

Tsubasa and Yōko refrained from commenting on the awkward encounter, and launched instead into a conversation about one of their latest assignments, lamenting the fact that Yoruichi had long ago moved on to an advanced class and couldn't join their project team. 

 

Yoruichi was grateful to them for the change of subject; though the complexities of the dynamics in any group weren't entirely beyond her understanding, she had never felt comfortable under the weight of all the unspoken words that hung in the atmosphere. 

 

She only wished she hadn't just inadvertently driven a wedge between her two friends.

   

* * *

 

 

**MAY 23 RD, 129 B.H.I., SHIHŌIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

"Well now… chin up, let me take a good look at you."

 

Yoruichi straightened her spine, arms clasped behind her back.  A pair of sharp, onyx eyes seized her up, identical to her father's.  It wasn't often that grandfather Ichiro left the confines of his and grandmother Kaoru's comfortable home for a visit, so she indulged him, recalling that he had seen her last when she had been barely one hundred and twenty.  The wizened, balding old man was likely nearing his nine hundredth year of age, but he still stood tall and reasonably spry, making for a dignified sight in his resplendent, dark green kimono.

 

He took his time observing her, his solemn expression softening little by little the more he saw of her, until his face eventually went into a rarely seen smile.  "You should be thanking your lucky stars every day that she took after Hana," he told his son.

 

Yoruichi's father laughed.  "I like to think there is a hint of my blood somewhere in there," he said, gazing fondly at her.

 

Turning back to her, her grandfather reached for her hand and gave it a gentle pat.  "I shall be staying for a few days, so I hope we will have time for a lengthier visit, perhaps tomorrow," he said.

 

Though his words held no displeasure concerning her presence in the dining hall, Yoruichi understood that she was being dismissed, no doubt meant to join her mother, grandmother Kaoru and her aunts over at the tearoom.  Sitting at the table behind them, her uncle Daiki made no effort to hide the smug grin on his lips as he quietly sipped his sake.  Yoruichi made a mental note of the fact that her twin _male_ cousins, both almost thirty years younger than her, had not been politely asked to withdraw from the meeting after greeting their grandfather.

 

"As a matter of fact," her father said, placing both hands on her shoulders as he came to stand behind her.  "I intended for Yoruichi to join us today."  Upon sight of grandfather's clouding expression, he hurried to elaborate.  "After all, given her current progress, it could be that she may be ready to join the Onmitsukidō in less than a year's time.  As such, I would like her to start getting acquainted with some of the senior members."

 

It was quite comical how quickly her grandfather's expression morphed to surprise, his eyebrows shooting upward.  He addressed Yoruichi directly.  "I was under the impression you had only enrolled in the Academy last year?" he said.

 

Yoruichi tried not to look smug as she nodded, feeling particularly affectionate for her father at that precise moment: his own spiritual pressure betrayed that he, too, felt a distinct pleasure in her rising above the expectations that had been placed upon her.  "That is correct, grandfather," Yoruichi said.  "I just entered my second year."

 

"I suspect she may very well break my feeble record of two and a half years," her father said.  "What say you, father?  Shall we allow the top Academy student of her class to attend the meeting?"

 

She half-wished he hadn't mentioned that last part.  It might have been a great source of pride, having beaten even Kisuke's scores for the past semester, if only his performance hadn't been so badly affected by personal matters.  Still, she had stayed true to her promise to push him to cover for lost time, and in the end, having something to occupy himself with had proven to be as therapeutic as she'd hoped.  Even if he'd had to settle for second place.

 

Her grandfather's eyes darkened for a moment as they strayed toward his son.  Yoruichi suspected that he knew her father had only added that second tidbit of information as a subtle dig to his younger brother.  Additionally, pretending to ask for permission to allow her to stay had served as a reminder as to who had the final say on the matter; her grandfather had no true authority to forbid her presence and his son had just rubbed his face in it.

 

It was a very well-executed two-pronged attack, but Yoruichi had always had little patience for her family's tiresome internal conflicts.  All the same, she allowed her father to savor this victory, knowing full well that his perceived procreative failures had always been a sore point for him: a sole heir, as opposed to his siblings' numerous children, and a _female_ heir at that.  Not for the first time in her life, Yoruichi wondered how different her life might have been if she'd had any siblings, especially brothers. 

 

"I don't see how we could not," her grandfather said, schooling his expression into a more amiable one.

 

To any onlooker, the following few minutes might have appeared to be a pleasant conversation between family members.  However, Yoruichi was under no delusions that her presence hadn't thrown the dynamics of the impending meeting off balance. 

 

Every now and then, the conversation between her grandfather and his two sons concerning the Vault activities would enter a natural pause, which was when the older man would direct a question to one of his three grandchildren.  Yoruichi did her best to keep a demure profile for the time being, not wishing to create more tension.  Naoki and Takuma, on the other hand, put little to no effort into hiding just how much the proceedings bored them; if they hadn't been trying to take advantage of their father's distraction to sneak some sake into their teacups, she suspected they may very well have fallen asleep. 

 

Tired of watching them hesitate every time there was a clear opening, she finally caved and snatched the bottle for them.  Takuma silently gave her a double thumbs-up, his broad grin reaching his eyes, while Naoki started sending her air-kisses in gratitude.  Yoruichi rolled her eyes at them even as she grinned, then swiftly returned the stolen bottle at an opportune moment.  _Little dorks._

 

Nearly half an hour into their afternoon tea –or rather sake for the adults- the conversation was interrupted by a discreet rap on the door of the dining hall.

 

"Enter," her father said.

 

A servant clad in the amethyst robes of the staff stepped inside, going into a low bow.  "My Lords, Princess, your guests have arrived."

 

Sasagawa Mitsuru, Commander of the Onmitsukidō, entered the dining hall, accompanied by his personal guard of four men.  Yoruichi recognized one of them as his Vice Commander, and she assumed the other two men were of high rank as well, but it was the fourth person who captured her interest: her cousin Akira.

 

Tall, broad-shouldered and lean, he had grown a lot in the years since they'd last crossed paths.  Though she hated to admit it, he cut a rather imposing figure in his black, finely tailored uniform, his hair short, neat and swept back.  Akira, like his two brothers Naoki and Takuma, had inherited the trademark Shihōin dark hair and eyes from his father, and when clad in the Onmitsukidō black, he was the very picture of what a Shihōin heir was meant to be.  Part of her had been surprised he hadn't joined his father and brothers for this meeting earlier on, but now she could see why.  Apparently, despite his relatively low rank, Akira was part of Sasagawa's inner circle.

 

Sasagawa and his men greeted both Yoruichi's father and grandfather first, turning to her uncle Daiki next.  Sasagawa in particular saluted her uncle with the utmost respect; no doubt he had once served under him before the latter's untimely retirement.

 

"Princess, how delightful to be in your presence again," Sasagawa said, bowing before her.  Yoruichi returned the greeting.  "To hear some of my acquaintances in the Academy speak of your accomplishments, I am starting to fear we might lose you to one of the Divisions come next year.  No doubt many will fight tooth and nail to have you join their ranks upon graduation."

 

"I assure you, Commander, I have no such plans," Yoruichi said, her eyes flitting over to Akira for a moment; Sasagawa's comment had drawn his attention and he appeared to be listening in on the conversation while keeping a polite distance. 

 

"That is good to know.  Am I to understand you will be attending this meeting, as well?"

 

"I am, indeed."

 

"Splendid," the Commander said, smiling broadly, then extended his hand toward the table.  "Shall we get started?"

 

Though she had been encouraged to voice her opinion, Yoruichi followed her father's earlier advice and remained silent during the meal, concentrating instead on observing everyone present.  _"There is a lot to be gained by simply watching how people interact,"_ he had told her time and time again. 

 

For people like her father and Kisuke, who enjoyed surprising others but detested being the recipients of unexpected developments, prior knowledge was a necessity.  They were collectors of information, masters at compartmentalizing data into neat little mental cabinets that could be accessed at the opportune moment.  Where others would execute a task in three steps, they delighted in proving it could be done in a single, elegant step, the crystallization of processing and reflecting upon the assembled information.  

 

Though she never underestimated the value of a solid opening strategy, Yoruichi had always been someone who learned by experience.  Stepping into her father's shoes, if only for an evening, was an interesting, but slightly overwhelming experience.  Some observations were easy to make: Akira's intense desire to be seen as valuable and indispensable, her grandfather's tedium when it came to all fiscal matters, such as the budgetary concerns the Commander was updating her father upon.  Other behaviors were far more difficult to decode, such as the very delicate balance Sasagawa maintained in between exerting his power as Commander while trying to be respectful of her family's authority.  It was difficult to tell whether he genuinely sought their counsel or if he had called this meeting as a mere formality.

 

"The realm has grown soft, my Lord," Sasagawa was saying to her father, once the more mundane matters had been discussed and dealt with.  "Far too soft when it comes to dealing with our enemies."

 

"I would think, Commander, that none of us wishes for Soul Society to return to the more barbaric practices of old," her father said.  "There are far more civilized ways to deal with enemies than what I hear whispered in the corridors of the Diet building," he said, his lips curling in distaste as he uttered those last words, like he was recalling a particularly foul memory.

 

"With all due respect, Lord Shihōin, when said enemies cross certain lines, forgetting that it is only due to our generosity that they have even survived, I am not so inclined to be charitable," Sasagawa said.  "Unless I am mistaken, your own daughter was a victim of the most recent Quincy attack?"

 

Yoruichi paused mid-chew, feeling all eyes in the dining hall instantly shift to her.  In a poised, dainty maneuver that would have made her mother tear up with pride, she gently patted her mouth with her napkin, then slowly set down her chopsticks, turning to the Commander.  "I came out relatively unscathed.  I would consider it somewhat of an exaggeration, calling myself a victim," she said.

 

"My humble apologies; I meant no offense—"

 

"No offense taken, Commander Sasagawa," she said.

 

"But there _were_ casualties?" Sasagawa asked.

 

"One," Yoruichi replied.  "The third seat officer of the Fifth Division.  He fell protecting a group of my classmates."

 

"Some of whom came dangerously close to death themselves, my sources informed me."

 

Yoruichi was thankful that the table served to conceal her hands, which now shook upon her lap; Sasagawa's tactless prodding had unearthed memories she had been struggling to bury for months now.

 

Rei being carried away on a gurney, her skin deathly pale; Tsubasa risking her life to call for help and reaching them when she was nearing exhaustion; Kotone and Yoshida pouring their own life-force into Rei until they had no more to give.

 

And Kisuke, body laid out on the banks of the lake, his arms blackened and burnt, blood seeping out into crimson flowers in the freezing waters, his lips parted as his breath— "Yes," Yoruichi said, her jaw set, her fingers digging into her thighs.  "That is true."  A few seats away from Sasagawa, she could see her father watching her with a slightly pained expression in his eyes, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his cup tightly.

 

Sasagawa gave her a sympathetic nod, then turned to her father again.  "An unprovoked attack that resulted in the death of an officer, could have very well cost the lives of innocent students, and the Thirteen Divisions _insist_ on negotiations?" Sasagawa said.  "It's no wonder the Quincies have grown so bold; there are no true consequences to their actions."

 

As much as she resented the man for cruelly forcing her to relive what was likely the worst moment of her life, she couldn't help but agree with him. 

 

Yoruichi's father tore his gaze away from her and turned back to Sasagawa.  "All Material World matters fall entirely under the Thirteen's jurisdiction; I do not see how they might relate to the Onmitsukidō."

 

"The Thirteen Divisions are meant to be a sophisticated organization.  And yet there is no method to separate the wheat from the chaff, no way to ascertain nonconformist elements don't find their way in," Commander Sasagawa said.  "They value strength in whichever shape or form it presents itself, and this influx of unscreened talent has led to severe inconsistencies when it comes to adhering to the organization's moral code."

 

Her father watched Sasagawa in silence, his blank expression giving no indications as to whether he agreed or disagreed with the man.

 

"As the Onmitsukidō, we may have no say in the Thirteen's dealings with the Material World, but when the results of their decisions affect the realm, do we not have a responsibility to act?" Sasagawa went on.  "My Lord, your opinion carries a great amount of weight in Soul Society.  I understand that there are many within the Thirteen's ranks you hold in high esteem, which is precisely why I wanted to bring this matter to your attention.  As the realm's protectors of peace, I believe we can _aid_ the commendable work performed by the many fine men and women of the Thirteen."

 

"Aid them," her father repeated.  "By removing said _nonconformist elements_ , one would presume?"

 

"That much falls within our purview, does it not?" Sasagawa said.  "There are many among the Central 46 who would support such an amendment.  My concern is that the Thirteen might see this as an imposition—"

 

"Something you were hoping would be countered by my influence," her father finished for him.

 

"Assuming you share my viewpoint, that was my hope indeed, my Lord," Sasagawa said.

 

Her father set his hands upon the table, bringing his fingertips together as he scowled, deep in thought.  If there was one person's behavior which could, at times, be a perfectly inscrutable mask, it was her father's, Yoruichi thought.  Shihōin Ken'ichi never allowed his enemies nor his allies to discern more than _he_ wished to share with the world, and years of observation had given Yoruichi only the barest advantage over those not quite so familiar with her father's expressions and mannerisms.  One thing she was surprised to see, however, was the slight edge of anger that flashed through his eyes for a moment.  Much to her surprise, when he spoke next, he addressed Akira.

 

"Akira, my boy," he said genially.  "Would you be so kind as to escort your cousin and brothers to their quarters?  The hour is growing late, and our meeting is almost over."

 

Hard though she tried not to allow anger and disappointment to flood her face, Yoruichi failed.  What was the point in allowing her to attend the meeting if he was still going to treat her like a child, she wondered?  What did he have to say to Sasagawa that he refused to say before her?  To add insult to injury, he had asked Akira, of all people, to _escort_ her back to her room.  Did he not trust her to follow his bidding? 

 

"Of course, uncle," Akira said, quickly masking his own disappointment behind a façade of compliance.

 

Naoki and Takuma didn't even bother with any pretext; as soon as they were led outside the dining hall, they began complaining non-stop.  Yoruichi knew they couldn't care less about the meeting itself, but were outraged at the imposed curfew.  Akira chided his brothers into silence not long after the first few protests, and they kept giving him withering stares right up until they slammed the door to their room in his face.

 

The walk over to Yoruichi's apartment was a much different affair.  The awkward silence stretched on and on; neither pretended to be interested in the other's affairs, but Yoruichi was still seething at her father's decision to have Akira chaperone her back to her apartment.  She was about to let Akira know she was perfectly capable of finding her own way back when he spoke.

 

"It is true?  You fought a Quincy?" he asked.

 

 _I didn't **fight** him, I kicked his ass in ten seconds flat and would've finished the job if we'd had more intel.  Jealous?  _ "Yes."

 

Akira nodded, folding his hands behind his back.  "Well, the Commander is correct in saying that they have grown too bold, I suppose."

 

"He is correct about a great deal more," Yoruichi said.

 

"You agree, then?  That the Onmitsukidō should have a bigger say in the realm's internal affairs?"

 

Despite her anger at him, all Yoruichi had been able to think about ever since the Commander's suggestion back at the meeting, were her father's past words:

 

_"That is the price of leadership: you will not always be loved, you may very well be hated, but every action, every choice, every decision you ever make will be for the benefit of this world."_

 

She had no intention of explaining to Akira, or anyone who hadn't experienced something similar, what it felt like to be haunted by visions of her friends at death's door, what it felt like to think, even for a second, that the life of someone dear to her had ended.  As far as she was concerned, the choice between an unpopular reform and the deaths of innocents was an easy one.

 

"Many of my friends nearly died in that ambush," she said, turning to Akira.

 

She expected him to scoff at her, to try and cheapen her experience even if he ultimately agreed with his superior, but all Akira said was, "I understand." It was only when he came to a stop that Yoruichi realized they had reached her apartment; he gave her one last nod in farewell, turning his heel and walking away.

 

Yoruichi watched him go as Sakumo held the doors open for her, her brows coming together.  Unless she was very much mistaken, they had just had an actual –albeit brief, civil conversation.  

 

If she were anyone else, Yoruichi might have been pleasantly surprised at the shift in their relationship.  Instead, all she could do was wonder whether they had both just become players in their family's intricate game, or if they were still little but pawns with delusions of grandeur.

 

* * *

 

 

**JULY 16 TH, 129 B.H.I., UCHIDA'S TAVERN, 5TH DISCTRICT, SOUTHEAST RUKONGAI**

 

"Here's to… one third of the way done and over with," Harada said, holding up his glass of sake to the crowd.

 

"A _quarter_ of the way done," Kotone said.

 

"Let this— Hmmm?"

 

"Six years, twelve semesters.  Three is one _quarter_ of twelve, not one third."

 

Harada narrowed his eyes at her, glass still held aloft, then he turned to Kisuke.  "Kisuke, control your woman," he said.

 

Kisuke chuckled at that, letting out a shrug.  "She _is_ right.  And technically, it's not even the end of the third semester; we still have exams on September."

 

" _Anyway_ ," Harada said, very deliberately turning his back to Kisuke and Kotone, facing the rest of them once more.  "Happy summer, everyone!"

 

Yoruichi raised her glass along the rest of her classmates, her voice drowning in the clamor of the collective _Hear, hear_.  With classes having officially ended just the other day, there had been a consensus among their group that the beginning of summer vacation was cause for celebration.  An excursion to Rukongai had been a given, since the majority of their number –though still underage- were eager for a taste of sake.  Yoruichi had briefly considered leading the group to Okada's, easily the best tavern in the five-district area, but neither she nor Kisuke had made the suggestion out loud, even without ever agreeing upon it beforehand; Okada's tavern was their hangout, and inviting their classmates along felt oddly wrong.

 

With a group as large as theirs, small cliques inevitably formed once they had been seated at the long table.  Yoruichi sat sandwiched between Yoshida Norio and Rei, with Yōko, Tsubasa and Haruna sitting right across them at the middle of the table. Norio and his crowd occupied the lower half, while Yoruichi's other two friends, Kotone and Ami sat by the top, next to Kisuke and Fujita respectively.  Yoruichi could only laugh at the utter discomfort obvious in Kisuke's whole body for being seated at the dreaded _couples section_.  Thankfully, Harada was also there to help him feel more at ease.  

 

Harada took his seat at the very top of the table after downing his glass.  The moment he did, Yōko pretended to address the group at large, making certain her voice was loud enough to carry over the ambient din in the tavern.

 

"Considering none of us really share all our classes, shouldn't we recalculate the percentages accordingly?" she said.  "There's Kotone, who'll probably be done in about three years total—"

 

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE, I WAS JUST MAKING A GENERAL STATEMENT—"

 

"So that's…" Yōko went on, talking over the chuckles and titters her comment elicited.  "Half way done?  Yes.  Then there's _this_ monster over here," she said, pointing at Yoruichi.  "For all I know she's graduating come September."

 

Yoruichi rolled her eyes at Yōko's exaggeration, a slightly pleased smile crossing her lips nonetheless.  "I'm not _quite_ done yet," she said.  "More like…" She sought Kisuke's eyes for confirmation.  "Three quarters done?"

 

Across the table, Kisuke nodded at her.  "Or perhaps even five sevenths, going by Harada's calculations," he said.

 

"Oh _screw_ you, Mr. Math," Harada said, flipping his middle finger at Kisuke.

 

"Wait, so you've only got one semester left?" Kotone asked, turning to Kisuke.  She seemed to be torn between disappointment and awe.

 

"Well…" Kisuke said, rubbing the back of his neck.  "Assuming I pass everything on September… There's still a fair amount of classes left, but it's… doable.  We'll see."

 

Yoruichi knew all this alleged indecisiveness was a front he put up only for Kotone's sake, and was also perhaps an attempt to appear humble before their classmates.  Short of any unexpected catastrophe, there was no doubt whatsoever they would be graduating next April.

 

"Freaks, the both of you," Harada said with an affected shudder.

 

Conversation inevitably shifted to classes for the next few minutes until Yoruichi put an end to it, reminding everyone that they had come there to enjoy themselves and forget about their workload for a night, a statement that was greeted with many cheers.

 

Yoshida Norio went about refilling the glasses that had been emptied after the toast, and as he held the pitcher over Yoruichi's half-empty glass, she placed a hand over it and shook her head; nursing even a single cup over the course of the night was already going to be a supererogation on her part.

 

"None for you, Lady Yoruichi?" Norio asked.

 

"Norio, I've asked you to stop calling me _Lady Yoruichi_ about a thousand times," she said, gently rolling her eyes at him.  She had often found, over the course of her schooling, that those belonging in minor noble families such as the Yoshidas were often the ones having the most trouble dropping the honorifics, as opposed to the highborn or commoners.

 

Surely enough, Norio's cheeks reddened a touch in embarrassment.  "I apologize.  It is not often that someone of your station is so… well…"

 

"Unsophisticated?"

 

"Approachable, is more along the lines of what I was thinking," he said, smiling at her as he set the pitcher down.

 

"…since when has their judgment _ever_ been sound?"

 

Yoruichi blinked at the sudden, extraneous contribution to the discussion and looked up, her eyes sweeping over everyone in Yoshida's vicinity.  She could have sworn the voice she'd just heard belonged to Harada, but seeing as he was currently engaged in a discreet, nearly whispered conversation with Kisuke, it certainly couldn't be him she'd just overheard. Deciding not to dwell on it, Yoruichi shifted her attention to Tsubasa and Haruna's argument over which one of their guest lecturers from the Thirteen had been the most intimidating.

 

"Are you kidding me?" Yōko said.  "How can it _not_ be the Captain Commander?"

 

"Yamamoto is plenty daunting, I'll give you that," Tsubasa said.  "But you weren't _there_ , you didn't feel that… _aura_ ," she said, nearly downing the full contents of her glass.

 

" _Seriously_?  You're going with Captain Unohana?" Haruna said in disbelief.

 

"Yes," Tsubasa said as a haunted look permeated her eyes.  "But I don't know _why_."

 

"…damn streets rats going through my garbage one more time…"

 

There it was again.  Like a prey animal startled by the sound of rustling, Yoruichi looked up, trying to locate the source of the voice.  This time, the timbre hadn't resembled Harada's in the least, or anyone she was even remotely familiar with.  Brow furrowed, Yoruichi's eyes went over the surrounding tables one by one, as she tried in vain to discern individual voices over the collective, incoherent buzzing in the tavern.  It was useless; she could hardly even make out what her peers were saying over at the head of the table.

 

"Yoruichi?"

 

Turning toward her caller, still a little disoriented, Yoruichi found Tsubasa eyeing her with worry.

 

"Are you all right?" Tsubasa said.

 

"Fine," Yoruichi said, jerking her head gently in a pacifying motion.

 

"Are you sure?  You've gone a little… white," Yōko said.

 

"I'm fi—" Even as she began forming the words, Yoruichi picked up yet another sound that didn't belong, another voice she didn't recognize, and unbidden, her eyes instantly sought out the source.  _What the hell is going on?_

 

"Here, let me pour you some water," Norio offered, pushing a glass toward her slack hand.

 

Yoruichi muttered a quick thank you and downed the glass at once, a chill running down her spine.  As Norio gave her another refill and her friends went about inquiring into her well-being, she caught Kisuke staring at her, ignoring whatever it was Fujita was talking to him about.  "You okay?" he mouthed at her, his own expression one of moderate concern.

 

Yoruichi nodded at him, then turned to the people in her vicinity who were making a fuss over her.  She assured them all that she was perfectly fine, only suffering from some momentary light-headedness that was now gone.  If they were skeptical of her excuse they didn't show it, and they returned to their previous conversation.  To her frustration, Norio now appeared to be dividing his time between following the two conversations on either side of him and keeping a watchful eye on her.  It was a kind gesture, but she wasn't in need of mollycoddling and she told him as much, proposing that his time might be better spent actually engaging her in conversation instead of silent scrutiny.  Norio looked a little taken aback at the blatant suggestion at first, but he decided to heed her advice and soon became far more pleasant company than he had been just a moment ago.

 

It was during Norio's recounting of a particularly amusing anecdote that Yoruichi turned around just in time to catch a glimpse of Kisuke averting his gaze from her.  _Ugh, honestly, what **is** it with men?_   None of her female friends had made such a big deal out of the odd incident, she mused, already starting to get worked up, before noticing something peculiar: when Kisuke shifted his attention back to Harada, though he feigned nonchalance quite well, there was an edge of hardness in his eyes, a faint stiffness in his movements.  Even more tellingly, she could see that he was absently toying with the errant little fringe of his hair, a habit he had taken up in recent months whenever he felt upset, and a tell-tale sign that he was only giving off the impression of paying attention.

 

As she stole her own fair share of glances his way for the next hour or so, she saw that his discomfort never disappeared, not even when he and Kotone retired for the night, their hands linked together as they said their goodbyes and left Uchida's.

 

Yoruichi made a very honest effort to enjoy the rest of her night, all the while lamenting the fact that every single aspect of her life had lately become so unbearably complicated.  If there was some solace to be found, it was in Norio's continued chatter.  Taking a leaf out of Kisuke's book, Yoruichi observed him without truly listening, enjoying the sight of the earnest smile that reached all the way up to his green eyes.  For all his occasional, mild boastfulness, he was a pleasant, singularly uncomplicated person, easy to read and the diametrical opposite of mercurial. 

 

So later, when he asked to escort her back to the estate, she didn't refuse, nor did she shy away when he kissed her under cover of a cherry tree shortly after they exchanged goodnights.  For the few, joyful minutes it took her to reach her room, she entertained the delusion that his presence in her life would inject it with some much-needed simplicity. 

 

The illusion didn't last long, and after fighting with her bed sheets for the better part of two hours, she stopped lying to herself and instead retreated to the one place where she could always count on things being simple, uncomplicated.

 

The jungle greeted her like an old friend, and as she kicked her sandals off she broke into a run, finding comfort in the feel of the soft, wet earth, the rhythmic crackling of the bamboo, the song of the nightingale.  The eyes she had once not trusted to guide her through the forest at night now had little trouble adjusting to the limited light: she glided through trees, leapt over boulders, slid down the surface of moss-covered logs, the weight of her worries lifting off her shoulders as she pushed herself to go faster, jump higher, travel deeper into the forest.

 

Lurking somewhere in the shadows, she could feel it, the cat's presence; she knew she was being watched.  And it was then that she realized where her thundering footsteps had been subconsciously leading her to.  Through the forest, into the warm pool, up the waterfall and past the rock bed, never stopping, never catching her breath, the cat now hot on her heels.           

 

The small, impossibly agile creature sprinted on ahead, and Yoruichi didn't pause for a single beat as she followed it around the rock bed and up the tall tree.  She could feel its heartbeat in sync with hers as she braved the difficult climb, the cat giving her soft little mewls in support, its long tail quivering in excitement.  _Almost there, almost there…_   Every muscle in her body was aching, rivulets of sweat trickling down her back with the effort it took to keep moving. 

 

She breathed through the pain, her eyes focused straight ahead toward the top, but her frustration at the slow pace was escalating.  When her tunic got caught at a wayward twig and nearly through her off balance, she let out a growl, having had enough of this.  Tightening the grip of her thighs around the trunk, Yoruichi released her hold on the tree and reached for one of the vines cascading past her: it would never hold her weight for the entire climb, but it was perfectly adequate for what she had in mind.  Tying the end of the vine around her midsection, she was finally able to free her hands.  She wasted no time on a break, and instead tugged at her top impatiently, tossing it without a second thought.  Her hakama were a little trickier to remove, but it was only when she was well and truly naked that she pressed on ahead, completely free and unencumbered.

 

The cat reached the top first, and this time, Yoruichi's vantage point allowed her to see that the narrow path upon the face of the cliff led into a small cave hidden behind the curtain of roaring water.  In an acrobatic move even move elegant and impressive than the first time she'd seen it do this, the cat landed on the rock outcropping, trotting on ahead to make room for her.

 

Her entire body wrapped around a sturdy branch, Yoruichi felt a smidgen of hesitation for the first time that night.  There was no turning back now, she was fully committed to taking the last step, but she allowed herself just a second's pause as she found her courage and untangled herself.  With a sharp swing of her legs, she began to gather momentum, swaying back and forth until she held her breath and released her grip.  For a brief, joyous moment she was weightless, a swooping sensation in the pit of her stomach as she flew forward.  Such was her euphoria, that crashing against the harsh, rock surface didn't even phase her. 

 

Not stopping to marvel at her accomplishment, she urged herself to keep moving, to reach firm ground before another unexpected mishap might set back her progress once again.  Hugging the rock, she stepped carefully across the narrow path, paying extra care into her footing as she neared the waterfall, wary of the possibly slippery rock.  Before she knew it, she was there, she had made it, and all the adrenaline in her body seemed to withdraw at once, her legs adopting the consistency of gelatin and sending her tumbling down onto the floor of the dank cavern.

 

There was little time to register the pain in her knees as they hit rock, because the creature was suddenly there, literally pouncing upon her.  Yoruichi let out a faint yelp, rolling onto her back as the energetic little ball of fluff assaulted her with enthusiastic licks and nuzzles.  She could do little but laugh, her fingers digging into the cat's soft, warm fur as it set about grooming her with its abrasive pink tongue, its tail swinging about in a frenzy.

 

Though the cavern was bare and humble, it had a soothing, familiar feel about it, as though her very own spiritual essence was infused in every grain of rock, every droplet of water.  The warm little body in her arms embraced hers with pure, unadulterated joy, and it was there, in the heart of the jungle, that two identical pairs of golden eyes met once more, no longer guarded or frightened.

 

Yoruichi closed her eyes, a broad smile on her face as she cupped the creature's snout, their foreheads touching together. 

 

"Hello, Maya."     

 

* * *

 

 

**JULY 24 TH, 129 B.H.I., URAHARA RESIDENCE, 2ND DISCTRICT, NORTHWEST RUKONGAI**

 

"Hhhnnnnnghhhh…"

 

"Hmmmhhhh…"

 

"Kis'ke?"

 

"Hn?"

 

"S'my turn."

 

"My minute isn't up yet," Kisuke said.

 

"It is by _my_ count," Yoruichi said, nudging his thigh with her foot.  "Gimme."

 

"I have … seven fans scattered around the house.  You're free to pick whichever one you like."

 

"Yeaaaah, I'm not moving.  Now _gimme_ ," she said, nudging him once more, harder this time around.

 

With a sigh, Kisuke gave the white fan in his hand a sharp flick until it folded unto itself.  He didn't bother moving an inch from his comfortable position out on the deck –perfect shade coverage plus a mild breeze current- and simply tossed the fan her way.  He hadn't _really_ been aiming anywhere in particular, but he couldn't deny he derived a smidgen of pleasure from the indignant yelp she emitted when the fan landed on top of her distended belly.

 

"I would _so_ make you pay for that if I could get up," she growled, trying to land a kick again.

 

"It was an accident," Kisuke said with a chuckle, moving his lower half just out of reach.

 

"Accident, my ass," Yoruichi muttered, giving up on retaliation with a huff.  She slipped the fan open and went about trying to cool herself, as she lay supine across the deck. 

 

Kisuke closed his eyes, head leaning back against the wall as his legs swung off the edge of the deck.  On any other day, when his stomach didn't feel like it was about to burst and when it weren't so unbearably hot, this would make for a prime napping spot, he mused. 

 

"I've been meaning to ask," Yoruichi said.  Kisuke cracked one eye open and saw her running her fingertips across the polished wood, her eyes only half open.  "Did you do something to the deck?  It feels different."

 

"A bit of sanding.  Fresh coat of paint, too."

 

"No kidding…" she said, her gaze traveling over the canopy, a lazy smile on her lips.  "This place is really starting to come together."

 

Though it was still a work in progress, Kisuke was in full agreement with her assessment.  So far, hadn't been able to devote a lot of time to sprucing up his new home, making small changes on the odd weekend here and there, but now that school was out for summer, he had been working almost non-stop.  Most of the furniture up in the old attic had been too far gone to use, but a few pieces had turned out to be salvageable.  The rest he'd had to purchase bit by bit, and though he still had a long way to go, the cottage was starting to resemble a home, indeed.

 

The bedroom upstairs had received little attention other than some cleaning: he was perfectly content with sleeping on a simple futon, so he had only bothered with repairing the closet.  The washroom and kitchen were both fully operational, though the latter lacked a great number of essentials, but as Yoruichi had pointed out when she'd showed up with lunch earlier on, he probably wouldn't be needing more than plates, glasses and utensils anyway.  Still, it wouldn't be a bad idea to stock the pantry at the very least; the sight of rows upon rows of nearly empty shelves was a little depressing, especially since he'd spent so many hours sanding the damn things.  He had done a fair amount of work on the living room, which was now equipped with a set of new tatami mats and pillows, a small table and a fully refurbished fire pit.

 

But it was the study he had poured most of his efforts into, his pride and joy.  The shiny new desk and comfortable chair on the left hand side had cost him a fair bit, but they'd been worth every kan.  He had outfitted the walls with nothing but shelves, and though he had only managed to fill about a third of the available space, he hoped to one day see every single one lined with books.  One the right hand side, he had built a sturdy slab for Fleshy – _"You made that thing a **bed**?"-_ and filled the other corner with workbenches.  It was the equipment that had turned out to be the biggest expense: beakers, test tubes, burners, thermometers, various tools and especially materials. 

 

For the time being, the study was more than adequate in terms of fulfilling its purpose, so he had decided to spend the rest of his vacation focusing on a few more urgent repairs, like finally getting around to building a shed out in the patio to replace the attic he was now using as a bedroom.

 

"Don't sound so surprised," Kisuke told Yoruichi with a grin, upon her remark that he had gotten a fair amount of work done.

 

"I'm not surprised you're handy; I'm surprised you stuck to your decision," Yoruichi said, tucking her free arm under her head as she continued to gently swing the fan before her chest.  Her one minute was long ago over, but Kisuke didn't bother asking for the fan back.  "No regrets there?"

 

She had tried to broach the subject many times since February, and every time, it seemed to amaze her that he hadn't regretted leaving the Urahara clan.  He supposed it wasn't an entirely unfair question, given the emotional upheaval that had come with his mother's death, and the time it had taken him to come to terms with it. 

 

Kūkaku had warned him from the start that it was a long process, and a far from linear one at that.  He had been so young when his father had passed away, that his absence from Kisuke's life had almost always been a constant in his life.  Losing his mother, on the other hand, had thrown him into a state of emotional toddlerhood, where he had to learn how to exist in a world which didn't include her anymore.  Some days would pass by without his mind ever wandering to her; some days he would misspeak, or even make a mental note of asking her opinion on something before realizing he could not; other days, he could bring up her memory and simply smile.  Though the majority of his days weren't of the latter type, they were starting to get more and more common.     

 

Even so, in all the time he had spent agonizing about how he might have been a better son, or over a million different regrets he had concerning his mother, his choice to leave the Urahara clan had not once been called into question. 

 

"I told you it was a sober decision," he told Yoruichi, unable to help but grin a little smugly.  "I'll admit, I probably would have waited a little longer if my mother hadn't died, but if anything, it's made me even more convinced it was the right thing to do."

 

"How so?"

 

Hand rubbing the back of his neck, Kisuke hesitated a little.  He hadn't meant to blurt out that last part: it was something that had occurred to him on a sleepless night a while ago, but he'd never spoken of it, worried it would make little sense to anyone other than him.  "I, umm… See, the thing about my clan is that my grandfather is still pretty much the head of the family," he said.  "In the sense that his thoughts and opinions set the tone for everyone else.  He disliked my mom, but he still loved his son, even after he chose to come live here with her," he went on. 

 

"He never blamed him for anything, never held a grudge.  I don't think he actually ever hated my mom until dad died.  Maybe even felt she didn't try hard enough to save him, I don't know…  The point is that I turned out looking very much like my father, but almost nothing like him in character.  Too much like my mom.  And I think that messed them up, you know?  They weren't the most pleasant people to begin with, but the pain made them really bitter.  And I… I sort of get it now, blaming everyone and everything under the sun, because most deaths are just so random and senseless, that people often need to find some meaning behind it all.  So, in a way, losing mom helped me understand them a little.  Is that… is it too weird?  I don't know if—"

 

"It's not weird," Yoruichi said, holding his gaze.

 

It was the calmness and understanding in her eyes that gave him the courage to continue.  "After the funeral, I realized that this whole situation was just too toxic for everyone.  For them, for me… and if it hadn't changed in a hundred and seventy years, it certainly wasn't going to change now," he said.  "I decided to just take myself out of the equation.  I only kept this house and some of my mom's money.  Should be more than enough until graduation.  So no, no regrets."

 

"And in the meantime, you can make some cash on the side," Yoruichi said, a very knowing smirk on her lips.  "Say, selling bad cheat sheets to our classmates."

 

"I resent that, they were all legitimate," Kisuke said, folding his hands on top of his belly.  "Yours and mine simply happened to be more, ah… comprehensive.  Didn't want to _completely_ mess up the curve."

 

Yoruichi laughed, stretching her legs once before she folded up her knees.  "Well, at any rate, the house really is looking great," she said. 

 

Kisuke was glad to see that she was no longer going to be pressing the issue of his possible reconciliation with his clan.  She seemed to have understood that despite the fact that it had been made under an emotionally compromised state, his decision had eventually worked out for the best, for all concerned parties. 

 

"Except for _this_ ," Yoruichi went on, gesturing toward the garden in distaste.  "Seriously, it's summer already.  Take the plunge, or it's going to swallow up the house in a few months."

 

For all her hyperbole, Kisuke was beginning to think that perhaps she had a point.  If there was one area of the property that had been left completely untouched it was the back garden, which, after a particularly rainy spring, was starting to get slightly out of control.  The stalks of grass now reached well past his knee and the various bushes had grown to the size of small trees.  Despite deceiving appearances, however, _Project Jungle_ was already under way.

 

"I'm getting around to it," he said.

 

"There are _things_ crawling out there," Yoruichi said.  "I swear I saw something grey streak past the grass just a few minutes ago."

 

"Oh, that would be the kittens."

 

"The what now?"

 

"Kittens.  Grown cats, too, I suppose.  Neighborhood strays."

 

Pushing herself up off the deck, Yoruichi gave him a disparaging scowl.  "Oh, what did you _do_?"

 

"There… _may_ be bite-sized chicken pieces scattered across the garden."

 

"……Oh gods, you're trying to _tame_ them."

 

All right, so perhaps that was a _possible_ bonus fifth step in his four-step plan, but she had otherwise missed the mark entirely.  "Actually, I'm trying to get that mess cleared out," he said, pointing toward the garden.  "And I figured, hey, stray cats are hungry, cats are great with all kinds of vermin, I have food _and_ a bug-infested garden… win-win.  Plus, they make for a fascinating object of study."

 

"That is the _biggest_ , _fattest_ lie—"

 

"They do!" Kisuke said in protest.

 

"You already _have_ an object of study.  Haven't you been working on Fleshy for months now?"

 

Fleshy had become an invaluable distraction in the days since moving in his new home.  Aside from his existing fascination with gigai mechanics, Kisuke had found himself tinkering with the synthetic body more and more often, as it was the only type of intricate work that kept his mind well and truly occupied.  On particularly difficult days, days when his mother's ghost haunted his every step, nothing else proved to be distracting enough to keep him from plunging head-first into despair. 

 

It wasn't a particularly healthy way of dealing with his grief, he understood as much, but there was no denying it had worked.  Kisuke had returned to that tried and tested method repeatedly, when faced with some of the more unpleasant recent developments in his life, such the situation developing between Yoruichi and Yoshida, and especially the end to a relationship which had come about as swiftly and unexpectedly as it had begun.

 

In the week since ending things with Kaneko, Kisuke had been a little surprised to catch himself actually missing her every now and then.  With the Fleshy project currently on brief hiatus, he had wracked his brains for a replacement, lest he exercise a little too much introspection and start feeling truly guilty for all the ways in which he'd been unfair to his erstwhile girlfriend.  As such, his overgrown garden and its various inhabitants had become a lifeline he had latched upon like a madman.

  

"Been waiting on some parts I had specially ordered," Kisuke said.  "In the meantime, I've been observing this litter along with a few others in the vicinity.  A few days ago, it occurred to me that I have _never_ seen a male tortoiseshell cat," he said.  "Not _one_.  Black and white?  Yes.  Grey and white?  Yes.  Any combination of two colors, yes, but _never_ a tri-colored one.  So then I started circling the neighborhood, looking for other litters and it's the same all over.  But _then_ I also start noticing something else that's interesting.  Out of nearly seventy cats I studied, 30% were pure orange tabbies.  Out of them, about 70% were males.  But pure orange _female_ tabbies? 30% of that, so only 9% of overall population.  This doesn't happen with mackerel tabbies, only _orange_ tabbies," he said, pointing his index toward a bewildered-looking Yoruichi and nodding impressively.

 

"Am I supposed to be—?"   

 

"The orange color!" Kisuke said.  "It's the only common denominator in such obvious disparities between the sexes.  It _has_ to be linked to gender, somehow."

 

Yoruichi stared at him for a few seconds in silence, then blinked very slowly.  "Okay, so _clearly_ you need help—"

 

"Numbers don't lie!"

 

"But you do.  And again, this was the most convoluted excuse _ever_ for trying to disguise the fact that you want to tame one of the cats."

 

He would be lying indeed if he claimed that part of the new project's appeal wasn't the possibility of actually acquiring a pet.  "And?  What's so wrong with—?"

 

"You are a _Crazy Cat Lady_ waiting to happen.  You won't stop at _one_ kitten and before you know it, there will be an army of cats scratching at your door every day," she said, acting out said scratching.  "Swindling you out of what precious little food you eat as it is."

 

 _Well, **that** was unnecessarily blunt,_ Kisuke thought, pouting.  _I would've stopped at… four.  Maybe._  

  

"So like I said," Yoruichi said.  "You need help.  And a gardener."

 

"I still maintain my cat lure is a good idea," he said.  "It's only a matter of waiting for the right cat to come along."

 

Yoruichi gave him an oddly tremulous chuckle at the sound of that and for the remainder of her stay, she didn't bring up the garden again.  It might've been his imagination, but it seemed to Kisuke that they were both immensely grateful for the change of subject.

 

* * *

 

**AUGUST 5 TH, 129 B.H.I., SHIHŌIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

Nuzzling the pillow she had loosely wrapped her arms around, Yoruichi savored the sweet, heady sensation of a semi-conscious state, ignoring Mizuho's efforts to wake her up and get her into a bath. 

 

She had precious few hours to spare on sleep when in school, and with a heavy workload and endless revisions pending, she knew that even her summer vacation wasn't going to be entirely relaxing.  Still, she had made a promise to herself that she would at least try to get seven hours of sleep every day, to keep herself from collapsing when she was so close to the finish line.

 

Despite her original feelings on the matter of an early graduation, the pride in her father's eyes concerning her progress and his constant insinuations that she could very well complete the curriculum on the two-year mark had had a big effect on her outlook.  As such, her schedule had rapidly changed from something marginally rational to an exhausting, though challenging timetable, highly reminiscent of her first semester.  On top of everything else, she had also struggled to fit a boyfriend –the word still sounded alien to her- somewhere in that whole convoluted mess, but if she were being entirely honest, Norio was the one who was more likely to make time for her instead of the other way around.  At any rate, he had yet to complain.

 

"Come now, my Lady, lest the water start to grow cold," Mizuho said, and rolled the blinds up, allowing the bright morning sun to invade her comfortably dark room.

 

Yoruichi let out an indignant growl, attempting to yank the slim covers over her head, but Mizuho was prepared for that; it had been their morning routine for so many years, that it was second nature to both of them by now, an annoying, yet comfortingly established ritual.  Mizuho grabbed the covers and pulled them off her, immediately letting out a sigh upon sight of her.

 

"All that beautiful nightwear, and yet you still sleep in the nude," she said.

 

Yoruichi buried her head beneath the pillow, shying away from the invading light.  "It's too hot for clothes.  Let me sleep, Mizuho," she said.

 

"Your Lord father is entertaining councilors of the Central 46 at noon," Mizuho said.  "It will not do for the Shihōin heiress to present herself before them unkempt."

 

Yoruichi let out a sigh of frustration and pulled her head out from under the pillow, pushing the moist hair off her sweaty forehead.  Slipping out of the bed, she dragged her feet over to the washroom, Mizuho nagging at her for her choices in sleepwear all the way there.

 

"Who _cares_ what I wear to sleep?" Yoruichi said a few minutes later, once Mizuho's lecture had reached an end, as she sat on the hinoki stool in the middle of the washroom, the handmaiden scrubbing her back clean.

 

"It is a matter of adopting good habits, Princess," Mizuho said.  "If I may be so bold, your… _disdain_ for finery seems to carry over to your everyday choices in clothing as well."

 

It wasn't as though she actually objected to the silk and brocade garments.  She would have happily worn them if they weren't all so damn constricting.   _All right, perhaps not **happily** , but I wouldn't complain as much._  Yoruichi let out a soft moan as Mizuho worked out the kinks in her shoulders, then downed a bucket of warm water over her clean body, turning to her hair next.  Mizuho didn't once stop talking about the importance of a proper dress code, about how it was the mark of a true lady and, most curiously, about the part clothing played in courtships.  

 

"You _are_ aware that I am already betrothed?" Yoruichi told Mizuho while the latter massaged her scalp.  _Well.  More or less._

 

When Yoruichi looked over her shoulder at Mizuho, she saw the handmaiden's face visibly cloud at that, her lips pursed.  "Yes, well… I do not wish to speak ill of House Shiba; they have long been one of the most influent—" Mizuho said.

 

"Yes, yes, I won't hold it against you," Yoruichi said impatiently, now wondering what Mizuho was getting at.  "Go on, speak freely."

 

"Well, my Lady, it seems to me that the future consort of someone of your status should show a little more care in his personal choices," Mizuho said.  "Honestly, opting to live in Rukongai… I am not insensitive to the fact that his sister has become a dear friend to you, but I do not think this was a match well-made, after all."

 

Yoruichi's heart fluttered at the revelation.  Could it be that dissolving this unofficial engagement might be easier than she had originally thought?  "Hmmm… Do you think my parents feel the same way?" Yoruichi cautiously asked.

 

"I know for a fact that your Lady mother does," Mizuho said.

 

 _And that's more than half the battle._   Yoruichi's mood improved drastically after that conversation, and she completely surrendered herself to Mizuho's gentle ministrations.  The bath turned out to be slightly less warm than she preferred, but she said nothing, knowing that part was her fault for taking so long to get up, and she submerged herself into the tub, closing her eyes.  She even indulged Mizuho in vacuous conversation, only now appreciating what a beautiful day it truly was today.  

 

"I thought you might enjoy a little pampering in preparation for this evening, my Lady," Mizuho said.  "I could have Tamako come over to treat your hair and nails after your bath."

 

 _Oh… why the hell not,_ Yoruichi thought, resting her arms at the rim of the hinoki tub.  It was time for a trim anyway, her hair was getting truly out of control, and though she knew Tamako's fine work would go to waste come Monday morning when classes resumed, getting a manicure had always been one of the more pleasant beauty regimens.  "Might as well," Yoruichi said.  "Go fetch her— Wait," she said, opening her eyes.  "Won't she be busy making up my mother?" she asked.  Tamako was, after all, her mother's handmaiden, not hers.

 

The effect her words had on Mizuho was instant.  Her plump face turned momentarily ashen, the pupils of her dark blue eyes visibly dilating.  The shift in her expression only lasted for a moment, but it was one moment too long.  "Your Lady mother is feeling a little under the weather today," Mizuho said, now back to her genial look.  "I do not think she will be attending the lunch."

 

A sweat broke out on Yoruichi's back, one that had nothing whatsoever to do with the warm bath.  "What's wrong with her?" she asked Mizuho.

 

"Just a touch of indigestion.  Dinner last night must have not agreed with her—"

 

"Nice try: my mother didn't eat last night," Yoruichi said, half-risen out of the tub already.  "I was there.  If anything, she felt nauseated.  What's _really_ wrong with her?"

 

"My Lady—"

 

"Mizuho, I swear, you either tell me _right_ now or I'm storming out like this," Yoruichi said, pointing at her nude, dripping self.

 

Mizuho wringed her hands, clearly uncomfortable discussing this and visibly angry at herself for her blunder.  "The important thing is that there is no cause for alarm, Princess," she said.  "I have no doubt the court Healer will proclaim her perfectly healthy—"

 

" _Will_ proclaim her—?" Yoruichi said, her jaw dropping in shock as she put two and two together.  "Is _that_ what all this pampering nonsense was about?  You wanted to keep me _occupied_?" Not wasting another second listening to Mizuho's pitiful excuses, Yoruichi climbed out of the tub and grabbed the yellow yukata Mizuho had set out for her, hastily pulling it on along the way as she sped out of the washroom, the handmaiden's imploring cries doing nothing to stop her.

 

Wrenching the door open, she ignored the odd looks her haphazard appearance attracted from the staff and she thundered down the corridors, leaving a trail of wet footprints in her wake.  As she neared her parents' quarters, she could hear the distant, muted sound of some sort of commotion and she doubled her pace, coming to a screeching halt right outside the wide open door to their apartment.  The staff were gathered outside by the genkan, the double shōji doors leading into the main rooms drawn shut. 

 

She could see maids coming and going, all of them making an effort to keep their voices quiet as they retrieved and cleaned up an assortment of items: a tray of barely touched food, various bowls and mortars carrying the scent of medicine and, most horrifyingly, a set of bed sheets stained scarlet.

 

Yoruichi froze upon sight of them, her knees suddenly growing weak, her vision blurring for a moment.  _Mizuho said she would be fine, she's fine she **has** to be she can't—_   Nearly losing her balance, Yoruichi quickly placed a hand against the wall behind her, her head filled with nightmarish scenarios that only got progressively worse.  She wanted to dash into the apartment, see her mother with her own eyes, but the fear of what she may find once she did had crippled her completely, rendering her into a quivering mess.  Was this how Kisuke had felt, when someone had taken him aside and—?    

 

"Princess?"

 

Yoruichi felt a gentle hand upon her arm and turned to find Asuka looking at her with concern.  The staff must've only just noticed her presence; she could see she was drawing their furtive glances as they went about their duties.

 

She was suddenly glad for Asuka's presence, a familiar face in a group of inquisitive strangers.  Her mother was notorious for her capriciousness when it came to her handmaidens: with the exception of Tamako and Miharu who had been with her for years, all the other women in her service tended to be replaced every few months.

 

Turning to Asuka with wide, fearful eyes, Yoruichi forced herself to speak.  "My mother…" 

 

"It has been a trying day," Asuka said.  "But your Lady mother is fine now."

 

"She— Truly?"

     

There was a pained look in Asuka's lined face even as she smiled at her warmly, and Yoruichi assumed that she must've been thinking of the late Lady Urahara.  She knew that Asuka wouldn't lie to her, not when she had seen what it had done to Kisuke.  "Truly.  She is a highly resilient woman, if I might say so," Asuka said. 

 

Yoruichi finally found herself able to breathe again, some stability slowly returning to her still trembling limbs.  "What happened?" she asked.

 

There was a hesitant look in Asuka's brown eyes, one that mirrored the expression in Mizuho's when Yoruichi had forced her to tell her the truth.  "My Lady… I am not certain it is my place to say…"

 

"Please?"

 

Asuka looked over her shoulder at the maids behind her, lips pursed, then turned to her once more.  "You Lady mother… she… she was with child.  Until this morning, that is," Asuka said.  "I'm afraid it just wasn't meant to be.  You have my deepest condolences."

 

For the longest time, Yoruichi was unable to process what Asuka had just told her, staring at the older woman dumbfounded.  _With child?_   She didn't know when exactly it was, but at some point once she had reached puberty, she had stopped hoping for any siblings and assumed that her parents, given their age, had also stopped trying.  It had never occurred to her that they might still be hopeful for a second heir.

 

"You needn't worry yourself, Princess," Asuka said.  "The healer performed a thorough examination and concluded she is perfectly healthy.  She is going to make a full recovery."

 

Still in a daze, Yoruichi pushed herself off the wall, making vague gestures toward the doors.  "I should…"

 

"Your Lord father is still with her," Asuka said, gently holding her back.  "I should warn you, my Lady, she is heavily medicated and very fatigued.  Would you like to perhaps retire to your room?  I could come for you after she has recuperated so you can visit with her."

 

Torn between wanting to see for herself that her mother was alright and not wishing to disturb her when she had had such a difficult morning, Yoruichi glanced toward the doors, biting her lip.  In the end, the decision was made for her: the shōji were drawn open from the inside and out came her father, looking his usual sober self, though there was a tightness in his lips and a troubled look in his eyes Yoruichi had rarely seen before.  While her mother had undoubtedly had the most emotionally fraught day, it only now occurred to Yoruichi that her father must have been distraught as well; he certainly looked it.  As soon as his eyes fell on her, he seemed shocked for a second as he took in her appearance.

 

"Good heavens, Yoruichi.  Why are you—?" he said, letting out a sigh and shaking his head.  "I told Mizuho to keep you busy—"

 

"Don't blame this on Mizuho," Yoruichi said, trying to steal glances at the room behind her father's frame.  "I weaseled it out of her.  How's mother?"

 

"A little disoriented, but otherwise well," her father said.  "Come now, you shouldn't be here.  Go back to your—"

 

"I want to see her!"

 

"This is not up for discussion.  Your mother—"

 

"Ken'ichi?" came a weakened voice from inside.  "It's all right.  Let her in."

 

Her father turned to glance at the room in worry, his jaw set.  When he made eye contact with his daughter again, his expression had softened somewhat, though he still appeared to be very displeased with his her for causing a scene.  "Do not stay for too long, she needs her rest," he said, then swept past her and out of the apartment, his gait stiff.

 

Yoruichi spared a quick glance at his departing form, before she stepped into her parents' bedroom, shutting the doors behind her.  This morning's events might've never happened, if one were to judge from the state of the room: all medical paraphernalia had been cleared out and the bed sheets her mother now rested upon had been changed.  The only marked difference between this day and any other, was the sight of her mother, pale and so very small-looking, lying on her side in the middle of the large bed, her body twisted in a near-fetal position.

 

As she approached the bed, Yoruichi felt the sudden, inexplicable urge to brush her mother's disheveled hair and bring her something more refined to wear than the loose, purple yukata her handmaidens had wrapped her into. 

 

When Yoruichi took a seat by the side of the bed, her mother slipped her eyes open, letting out a gentle groan. "You're wet," she said weakly, her brow knit.  Raising one hand off the mattress, she seemed to be trying to touch one of the long strands of Yoruichi's hair, but missing the mark completely, her fingers touching only air.

 

Yoruichi reached out to cup her mother's hand in hers; it was cold.  "I was taking a bath when— How… how are you feeling?" she asked, her fingers trying to rub some warmth back into her.

 

"Not unlike I always do," she said, and there was a small, wry grin on her nearly blue lips.  "It'll pass."

 

An involuntary spasm rippled through Yoruichi's hands at her mother's words.  She felt more than a little naïve now, to realize that her parents' centuries-long efforts to conceive had not simply been a constant uphill battle with no results, but a journey most likely rife with false alarms and pregnancies that had never reached full term. 

 

Her mother closed her eyes again, a sigh escaping her lips.  "I'm sorry."

 

"What?  Mom, you… It's not your _fault_ ," Yoruichi said.

 

"You're fearless," her mother said, her hand slipping out of Yoruichi's grasp to sweep gently against her jawline.  "You don't let anyone tell you who you are.  I am grateful for that.  They just… they expect so much… I wanted to give you someone to share the burden with." 

 

_They expect so much…_

 

It had taken her nearly two centuries, but Yoruichi thought she might just be starting to understand her own mother a little better.  Somewhere under the stifling gowns, the layers of makeup, the never-ending restrictive diet and acupuncture treatments, the rivers of green tea and the dozens of concoctions that she consumed daily, lay a woman just as tired and bitter at the expectations forced on her as she was.  How many times had her mother woken up, broken-hearted and in pain, to the sight of blood-stained sheets?  How many times had she forced down bitter extracts of carthamus flower, or angelica root or any one of the many herbs that were ever-present in her medicinal cabinet in the hopes that she would conceive again?  How many times had she had to endure the lingering stares and whispers from the elders of the family before she had managed to carry her daughter to term, and how many times since?

 

Yoruichi couldn't help but wonder what her father's role in all this was.  Was all this insanity something he had encouraged as well, or was it simply the result of her mother trying her utmost to be the kind of wife she thought she had to be, the kind of wife expected for a man as powerful as her father?       

 

"Mom…"

 

"I will keep trying, I promise."

 

Yoruichi shook her head at her, clasping her hand tightly again.  "It's… it's okay if you want to stop.  Just… be healthy, okay?" 

 

Her mother nodded weakly, though Yoruichi suspected she hadn't really heard her daughter's words, already half-asleep.  Her eyes slipped shut, the hand encased in Yoruichi's palms slackening, and her breathing become even. 

 

Gently, Yoruichi placed her mother's hand down upon the mattress again, then swept the hair away from her forehead as she watched the slow rise and fall of her shoulders while she slept.

 

She wondered if her mother would remember this conversation tomorrow, when in possession of her full mental capacities.  Yoruichi supposed it would be cruel and unfair to hold her to words spoken in a semi-hallucinatory state, but if there was one thing she was certain about, it was that she would never forget them for as long as she lived. 

 

* * *

 

 

**AUGUST 14 TH, 129 B.H.I., SHIHŌIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

Somewhere out there, woven into the endless song of the cicadas was a sound that didn't belong, a discordant note in the otherwise harmonious nocturnal symphony.

 

Her fingers laced through the cool grass as she knelt down, and Yoruichi clenched her teeth, her nails digging into the soft earth.  It was driving her insane.  The odd sound, the mismatched element.  For the third night in a row, it had kept her up, familiar and yet unknown, a maddening little earworm that sent her thrashing about the bed, sweaty and delirious with a kind of agony she couldn't name or even come close to identifying.

 

And all the while, Maya's gentle, coaxing purrs reverberating throughout her body, urging her to… what?

 

If she wasn't wary of the many estate guards patrolling the grounds she would've screamed in frustration right about now, but she held herself back; the momentary release wasn't worth the apoplectic lecture she would no doubt be subjected to if her parents discovered her out of bed at this hour, weapon strapped to her ankle, half-naked in a loosely-fitting yukata that had all but come completely unraveled while she sprinted across the grounds in a state of near-frenzy.

 

The sound kept coming and going, a soft, trilling little chirp— _A bird, it's a bird, a THRUSH how do I know it's a thrush, why can I-_ that seemed to be on the move, never settling down – _Of course it wouldn't it's a bird it makes sense now_.

 

She felt strong and at the same time completely powerless, her own spiritual pressure going haywire, turning against her as though it was trying to compress her own body into nothing.  Her skin ached, a dryness, tautness about it like it was being stretched far too thin and with every beat of the bird's song, the pain grew.

 

Her mother's words kept echoing in her head – _Fearless. You're **fearless** -_ and every time they swam into the forefront of her mind, Maya would purr in agreement.  Though she had no voice, her soft, cajoling sounds seemed to be telling her to stop being afraid, to let go.

 

_I can't, I can't, it's too much, I—_

 

"…minutes till the end of shift."

 

Yoruichi's head snapped toward the sound of the voice. _Two men, approximately thirty meters to the southwest._   She could feel their spiritual pressure, and though she had no doubt of her ability to pinpoint their location, she knew she shouldn't have been able to hear them from such a distance, not when their voices were deliberately kept low.  Still, she didn't stop to dwell on the matter, setting off in a sprint and into hiding. 

 

Her normally impressive ability to run in near absolute silence given the proper terrain, seemed to have abandoned her overnight; with every step against the moist grass she would cringe, certain she was about to draw the attention of the entire guard.  Only when she had her back flattened against the large maple tree by the shrine did it occur to her that perhaps it was her own sense of hearing that was seriously skewed.

 

So distracted was she in her rush to hide, as well as the extreme mental effort to block out the sound of the thrush, that she didn't realize she had just made her own situation far worse by choosing to take shelter in a part of the castle that was heavily patrolled.  The sky above was perfectly clear and the moon shone bright; all the stealth skills in the world wouldn't be able to keep her hidden now at the first sign of an incoming patrol.

 

Surely enough, no longer had she finished forming the thought than she heard the sound of distant voices approaching.

 

 _Ugh, DAMMIT!_   How on earth was she going to explain this to anyone without sounding completely mad?

 

Fingers digging into the bark of the tree, Yoruichi found she had no recourse other than to seek shelter up in the maple and hope no-one spotted her.  Quickly she scaled the tree, settling down into a thick, comfortable fork in the densest part of the foliage and tried to make herself as small as she possibly could.  As she hugged her knees, her fingers brushed over Maya's blade and she nearly gave out her position; she had been only a split second away from letting out a yelp at the alien sensation, but she was swift in clamping her mouth shut.

 

Slowly, warily, she reached for the blade once more, fingertips barely scraping against the flat of the blade.  The small tantō was vibrating intensely under her touch.  Oddly enough, she had felt nothing against her ankle where the weapon was secured, not until she had reached out with her own hand. 

 

A few meters below, a patrol of two men was approaching, and though she had taken care to hide her spiritual pressure, Yoruichi was still worried about discovery, the incessant, infuriating song of the thrush making it difficult to maintain control over her own power.  The tantō throbbed harder than ever under her hand, and without any conscious thought, Yoruichi pulled the weapon out of its holster, her eyes slipping shut as she held it out before her, blade pointing down. 

 

"Blend into the shadows, Maya."

 

Whatever she had imagined might happen when she strung those words together, reality went beyond any expectation.  The second she opened her eyes again, Yoruichi watched in horror as her beautiful tantō, her beloved Maya, began to crumble before her very eyes. 

 

From blade to pommel, the entire weapon was reduced to a billion infinitesimal pieces, lighter than dust, white and glittering.  She might have screamed if she had been able to summon her voice, but all that escaped her throat was a pitiful, aghast whimper.

 

"…hear that?"

 

She didn't even have the presence of mind to react to the approaching guards, far too stunned by the loss of her companion to care about anything else right now.  Not even the persistent, firm growls in her head were able to snap her out of her shock, not until the glittering dust began acting very strangely.  Instead of getting blown away by the wind, it clung to her forearms, not a single speck escaping as it uniformly coated her skin, glowing brighter.

 

_What…?  What on—?_

 

It was only then that she realized Maya's presence was still there, still crooning in her head, calming her down.  The second her heart went aflutter with relief, however, Maya wasted no more time coddling her and instead issued what was a clear and urgent warning to run.

 

Yoruichi didn't stop to question the advice.  She didn't think she could have if she'd wanted to; there was something else taking charge inside of her now, something primordial.  It was as though the dam she had been fighting tooth and nail to keep intact suddenly collapsed, and out poured a torrent of strange, overwhelming power.

 

She sprang up on her feet and leapt, feeling inexplicably weightless, and by now a true part of the shadows.

 

There was a shriek somewhere behind her as she landed effortlessly on the grass and dashed away.  And though she shouldn't have been able to hear the conversation taking place so far away while she streaked on ahead, she heard every word as clearly as if she had been physically present.

 

"Good grief, that thing nearly gave me a heart attack!"

 

"How did it even _get_ in here?"

 

"No idea.  Still… should be pretty harmless… right?"

 

* * *

 

 

**SEPTEMBER 5 TH, 129 B.H.I., MEN'S DORMITORIES, SPIRITUAL ARTS ACADEMY, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

Kisuke buried his head under his pillow, trying to block out the grating sound of Fujita singing a slow, melancholy tune at the top of his lungs.  _Must he do that **every** damn morning?_  

 

"Even in my yearning dreams, the rooster craws at dawn, too soon, too soon…"

 

_Good grief, did someone **die**?_

 

"Too far apart now, to share as we once did.  We met at _Letter Pass,_ does it now stand between us?"

 

Letting out a grunt in frustration, Kisuke pulled his head out of its hiding place, turning his bleary gaze towards Fujita.  "Could you please… not?" he said, voice gravelly from sleep.

 

"It's eleven o' clock!" Fujita said, checking out his reflection in the mirror hanging off the wall of their shared bedroom.  "For heaven's sake, Urahara, other people have already spent half their day outside and you're still sleeping."

 

Kisuke pulled the covers over his head, ignoring Fujita.  His roommate went back to his song, though he was decidedly quieter, Kisuke noted, and continued to get ready for wherever it was he was going.  He had never thought he would one day yearn for the Fujita of old, who would've been hauled up in his room ever since returning to school in preparation for the upcoming exams.  Apparently, Hasegawa had performed nothing short of a miracle in the months they'd been dating.   

 

Kisuke wasn't planning on moving a muscle before noon today.  Weekends in the Academy always seemed to take far too long to arrive and lasted far too little, and it was always a golden opportunity to catch up on some sleep, especially with exams looming so close.  It would also have been a good idea to head back home and get some work done on Fleshy, but his futon was proving too irresistible to abandon this morning.

 

 _Maybe later.  Or even tomorrow._  

 

"I'm surprised you're not out and about with Kotone.  Or Yoruichi," Kisuke heard Fujita say.

 

From beneath the covers, Kisuke slipped one eye open.  Though he could detect no meaningful tone or even morbid curiosity in Fujita's voice, Kisuke had to marvel at the man's timing.  He couldn't possibly know, could he? 

 

"I'm not meeting up with either of them today," Kisuke said, hoping that answer would prove to be enough for Fujita.

 

"How come?"

 

"Tired.  Didn't really make plans." 

 

"Well, I'm going out with Ami.  If you wanna join us, maybe we could head over to Kotone's and pick her up—"

 

 _Oh for crying out—_ Pulling the covers down, Kisuke cast his bloodshot eyes over at Fujita.  Though he was in no mood to prolong the conversation or even share this with him, he supposed it was only a matter of time before he found out.  "I'm not seeing Kaneko anymore.  So that would _probably_ be a little awkward."

 

"Oh," Fujita said, running a hand through his hair.  "Sorry, I didn't know."

 

"That's okay," Kisuke said, laying down on the futon again, hoping he could _finally_ —

 

**_"Well, at least you got your end wet."_ **

 

He didn't know what was worse: the fact that his subconscious had just said that to him, or the fact that, for once, she was not being sarcastic.

 

**_"I was only trying to be help."_ **

"Yes, I know.  Please stop."

 

"What?" Fujita said, putting a halt at his primping to turn to Kisuke again.

 

Had he said that out loud?  _Good grief, this day just keeps getting worse._   "Nothing, just muttering out loud," he said.

 

Fujita shook his head, letting out a sigh.  "Don't take this the wrong way, but people have been gossiping you know," he said.  "About you talking to yourself sometimes.  Go get some food in you or something, all right?  I'm out of here.  Later!"      

 

The door behind his roommate closed shut, leaving Kisuke glaring at his pillow, wondering what he might have done in a previous life to deserve this.  His mind refused to surrender back to sleep, in between being reminded of the breakup, and fleeting ideas about Fleshy whirling around in his head.  He fought back for about half an hour, until he finally gave up and decided he might as well get on with his day.  The sooner it was over, the sooner he could put it behind him.

 

Walking through the First Rukongai District was, at the very least, almost immediately uplifting.  The streets were buzzing with chatter, peddlers advertising their wares, shopkeepers greeting customers, passers-by discussing their plans for the day as they strolled through the marketplace.  As usual, a big part of the wandering crowd was made up of Kisuke's classmates, recognizable by the mandatory uniform, out enjoying their day off from classes and responsibilities. 

 

Munching on a crunchy piece of his shioyaki, Kisuke made his way over to the blacksmith's to see if any of the parts he'd ordered last week had arrived yet.  He suspected Mr. Tanaka was sick of the sight of him by now, but at the very least, Kisuke made sure he was paid generously for all the trouble he was being put through.  He couldn't afford not to; there wasn't exactly a great number of men skilled enough to produce the kind of quality alloy Kisuke was in the market for. 

 

He was about to turn the corner that led into the shop's alleyway, when he noticed a strange shadow out of the corner of his eye.  Looking over his shoulder, Kisuke swept the scene carefully.  Nothing seemed to be out of place.  A pair of girls brushed by him, issuing a quick apology before moving on.  The corners and rooftops of the stores nearby were clear.  No threatening or otherwise suspicious spiritual presence around.  Still a little puzzled, but satisfied nothing was amiss, Kisuke headed down the alleyway, stepping into Tanaka's. 

 

The visit was short-lived; his muscles and face dripping with sweat, Tanaka all but chased Kisuke out of the store, growling that he would be done when he was done and that he had more than enough orders backlogged that he had to get to first.

 

Having expected the response, Kisuke left without arguing, lest he find himself on the other end of Tanaka's hammer.  Walking away from the store's alleyway, Kisuke tossed the –now empty- shioyaki stick into a nearby bin.  Before he could take one more step, however, he saw it again: the shadow.  Quicker on the uptake this time, he whipped around to face the flash of darkness, one hand hovering over the hilt of his blade.

 

What he came face-to-face with made him let out a chuckle in exasperation.  " _You're_ the one who's been making me all jumpy?" he said to the offending intruder, grinning. 

 

Balanced on the rim of the bin was a small, black cat.  Its slick tail swishing gracefully in the air, the lean, beautiful little creature looked at Kisuke with its – _Hers? It's small enough to be a female-_ clever golden eyes and let out a soft meow.  He assumed she'd been tailing him ever since the shioyaki peddler, hoping to cajole him into handing her some scraps. 

 

"Sorry, I'm all out," he said, holding his hands out to show they were empty.  "Better luck next time, kitty," he said, and leaned in to give the cat a quick scritch behind one ear. 

 

The animal appeared to be friendly enough and didn't flinch at the touch.  Kisuke supposed she was used to the presence of human souls if she roamed around the marketplace all day.  Giving her a parting smile, Kisuke turned around and stepped out into the main street once more.  _A black cat, huh?  Maybe my day is about to get better_ , he thought.

 

However, if he was hoping on getting anything done soon, he was mistaken.  Not taking the hint, the cat trotted along, following him out into the busy street.  Normally, he would have welcomed the chance to hang back and play with her for a while, but he figured that since he'd taken the plunge and left his room, he might as well take care of a number of chores he had been putting off for far too long.

 

"Go on now, shoo," Kisuke said, swinging his foot gently in her direction.  The cat let out a positively forlorn meow, locking onto him with her glittering eyes.  "Go away," Kisuke said, knowing full well the cat couldn't understand him, but hoping she would leave him in peace either way.  The cat sat down on her haunches, her gaze beaming him with soul-rending despair at his apparent cruelty.  "Look, I… I don't have any food, okay?"  The cat meowed again.

 

_Are you a moron?  Why are you **still** making conversation with an **animal**?_

 

Letting out a sigh and uttering one more inane apology at the cat, Kisuke turned his back on her and stepped into the crowd, in the hopes she would lose sight of him. 

 

"Cheapskate."

 

Kisuke stopped dead in his tracks, aghast at the old man who'd just walked past him.  " _Excuse_ me?" he asked.

 

The man glanced at Kisuke over his shoulder, looking unperturbed.  "Yes, young man?"  His voice was much softer than Kisuke had expected.  A little hoarse with age, sure, but nothing like the gravelly quality of the voice that had just called him a _cheapskate_ , of all things. 

 

"I…Uhh…" Kisuke stammered, staring at the man.  "My sincere apologies, I mistook you for someone else."

 

The man nodded and went about his way, leaving Kisuke in a befuddled state.  He was the only man in the vicinity old enough to have been the owner of that voice.  Then again, perhaps the person in question wasn't as old as he'd thought.  _Maybe a little too heavy on the pipe, instead._

 

Kisuke decided not to waste more time worrying over this.  The insult most likely hadn't been directed at him and he was making a fuss out of nothing.  Shaking his head, he hurried along down the main street.

 

* * *

****

**SEPTEMBER 5 TH, 129 B.H.I., 1ST DISCTRICT MARKETPLACE, NORTHWEST RUKONGAI**

 

If she didn't think it would lead to Kisuke putting two-and-two together, Yoruichi would have cackled right about now.  In all honesty, all she had initially wanted was to mess with him for a while before revealing herself and sharing the excitement of her new power with him.  However, after waiting on him for hours to get off his lazy bum and get on with his day, she was determined to milk this for all it was worth.

 

The cat form had so far exceeded her expectations: it suppressed her spirit energy naturally, through no effort whatsoever on her part; night vision was an absolute marvel; the ability to sense spiritual essences was enhanced, to the point she could actually _smell_ someone's presence; the small size and supple body had given her access to places that had been nigh-impenetrable before.  The agility it afforded her, while very high, was not a significant improvement over her own in her natural form, but a smaller target was much harder to catch.  In terms of espionage capabilities, the cat form was beyond superb.  The fact that she could also speak, in a man's voice, no less, was the icing on top of an already magnificent cake.

 

_This is going to be **fun**._

 

For the few hours it took to break Kisuke, she followed him everywhere.  When he went to restock on ink and journals, she called him a nerd.  When he went to get fitted for a new pair of hakama, she called him a pansy.  When he stopped by a teahouse to have a drink and settle his nerves, she climbed up the tree right above his table and dropped a half-dead cicada in his cup.  _Okay, so perhaps that last one was a little cruel._

 

Every now and then, she would show herself, playing the part of the sweet, loveable ball of fluff who was hoping for some leftovers, but she otherwise stayed unseen, jumping from rooftops to windowsills to keep tabs on him.  It didn't take long for him to connect her casual re-appearances with the disembodied voice of an old man, but not even he was likely to reach the right conclusion.  After the cicada incident, he finally went berserk and accused her of being a vessel hosting the disgruntled soul of a tobacco chewer who'd perished of starvation.  The surrounding tables of the teahouse emptied rather quickly after that.

 

"If I get you some food, will you _LEAVE ME ALONE?_ " he pleaded, after she had followed him all the way back to the shioyaki peddler.  He looked about ready to burst into tears. 

 

Yoruichi gave a cheerful swish of her tail and let out an encouraging meow.

 

"I'll take that as a yes," Kisuke said, turning to the wary-looking peddler and taking out his money bag.  "I'll have one, please."

 

Yoruichi let out a reproachful hiss.

 

Kisuke shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking in a deep, calming breath.  "Better make it two, then."  He paid for the food, the vendor handing over the two sticks warily, and turned to her.  "Come on," he said, motioning toward an empty bench with his head.  He stowed the money bag back in his pocket and took a seat on the bench, holding one shioyaki stick out.  Yoruichi hopped on the bench jauntily and dove right into the food.  Kisuke watched her through narrowed eyes as she devoured the salty mackerel, his other arm slung over the backrest.  "So… Are you going to tell me what you are?" he asked.

 

Yoruichi licked the stick clean and looked up, swishing her tail again.

 

Kisuke held out the second stick, sighing.  "I don't get it," he mumbled out loud.  "This kind of possession is only possible in the human world.  And you're not being possessed in the first place; I can't feel a second soul in there.  I can't even feel your own.  Now _that_ , is odd," he said, in a soft voice clearly meant not to alarm her.  "See, even you should have a little spiritual power.  In fact, being a cat, you should have a lot more than the average animal.  But there's nothing in there," he went on, appraising her with the kind of sharp, penetrating quality his eyes took on whenever he was working on a pet project.

 

_Heh, pet project.  HahaHAHA—FOCUS._

 

"Now why would that be?" Kisuke said, as Yoruichi munched on the second piece of mackerel.  "Are you being stalked by something?  Something capable of masking both its spiritual pressure and yours?" he said, and all of a sudden, he was reaching out for her nape.

 

Yoruichi instantly jumped off the bench and out of his grasp.  _Still not fast enough, Kisuke!_   Knowing he had dropped all pretense of a calm and collected demeanor, Yoruichi wasted no moment to look back and see if he was giving chase.  She could feel him, hot in pursuit, his anger and intermixed curiosity frothing out of his essence. 

 

"I'M NOT GOING TO HURT YOU!" he yelled.

 

She knew he was not going to give up until he caught her and tried to figure out what she was, and that was exactly what she had been counting on.  Speeding away, she began to make her way back to the Court.  Kisuke redoubled his efforts, now employing Flash Steps to catch up and reach her.

 

This was going to be a little harder to pull off than she thought, but Yoruichi relished the challenge.  She couldn't very well use Flash Steps to escape him; he would immediately see through it and her ruse would be up, just when it was getting _really_ interesting. 

 

In the blink of an eye, he was right beside her, going into a dive.  Yoruichi jumped upwards in the nick of time, stepping on his shoulder and propelling herself forward.  She heard him let out a curse and roll back onto his feet, now positively livid as he chased her through the gate and out of Rukongai.  From behind, she could hear the yelps and shouts from the crowd he was tearing through to get to her, while she sprinted effortlessly between pairs of legs and headed straight for the Academy.

 

The guards outside the men's dorms didn't even have time to notice her as they saw Kisuke barreling toward them, with no intention of stopping.  "OI! No running in the—!"

 

"Sorry," Kisuke spat out, rushing past them by without a second glance.

 

Yoruichi could feel it, the plan formulating in his head, as his essence flared with a sense of purpose.  _Here we go…_  Kisuke jumped out to her right, making a move to reach out for her.  He was forcing her to turn to the left to escape him.  To his credit, he faked frustration at having failed again quite well when she evaded him, but she could tell he was pleased she had fallen for his imminent trap.  She sped down the hallway, zig-zagging through a pair of students who came across her path.

 

Kisuke disappeared for a few seconds as Yoruichi streaked down the path, and she had a sneaking suspicion she knew what he was up to.  Surely enough, she found him in front of her at the end of the hallway, coming out of a particularly well-executed Flash Step and blocking her way.  Forced to backtrack, Yoruichi turned around and ran down the hallway again, passing by the same pair of students who were watching the odd scene before them in shock.

 

"I knew it!  I _told_ you Urahara was going to lose it one of these days!"

 

Kisuke made one last move, stepping up against the wall to give himself momentum and dive toward her again.  Yoruichi had nowhere left to turn but straight into the open door she knew led into Kisuke's room.  He followed suit, landing into a roll right behind her, looking triumphant.  "Gotcha!" he yelled in glee, and stood up, twisting around to shut the door quickly, before she could escape. 

 

_And now… for the crowning moment._

 

Kisuke locked the door, then swiveled around.  "Nowhere to run now, you—"

 

"Oh no, whatever shall I do _now_?" she drawled, perched atop the kotatsu.

 

"AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

In reflex, Kisuke jumped backwards.  But before Yoruichi had even time to laugh, he hit the heaving bookcase behind him.  With a loud thud, the entire thing came crashing down, burying him under a mound of books, and he moved no more.

 

* * *

 

**SEPTEMBER 5 TH, 129 B.H.I., MEN'S DORMITORIES, SPIRITUAL ARTS ACADEMY, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

The first thing he became aware of was that there was something digging into his hipbone.  Within a second of making that mental observation, he realized that the more pressing concern was the raging headache currently wreaking havoc inside his skull.  

 

It hadn't been a peaceful night; his dreams had been strange and frustrating.  Like with most dreams, it had all started out naturally enough, with nothing seemingly amiss. He couldn't remember the specifics, but a black cat flitted in and out of his memories, and he remembered it had been tormenting him.  He had chased the damn thing all over Soul Society, because… it was in danger?  The details were fuzzy.  Somehow an old man had been involved, but he couldn't recall his face.  Then things had gotten _really_ outlandish and he had ended up in his dorm room with the cat actually _speaking_ to him.

 

"Ugh, _finally_!  Honestly, I've wasted, like, half my day now waiting for you to wake up.  _Twice_."

 

His entire body seized up at the sound of the familiar voice.  _Am I…?  Am I still…?_   Slowly, Kisuke opened his eyes, wary of what he might face once he did.  His eyes first took in a pair of black paws on the tatami mat he lay upon, and as he lifted his head up cautiously, his eyes swept past the small, sleek body, coming to a stop when they met a pair of hazel, nearly golden eyes.

 

He didn't think it was possible, but the black cat actually looked exasperated. 

 

"Yes, yes, let's get this over with—"

 

Kisuke pushed himself up and away from the creature, his back bumping against something hard.  Looking over his shoulder, he saw that the lower shelves of the bookcase were digging into his back, and they were all conspicuously empty.  In fact, he was just now noticing that all his books were scattered on the floor around him.

 

"I thought it would be more fun freaking you out, but it's really turning out to be a disappointment," the cat said, still in that same voice he had ascribed to an old man.

 

Kisuke turned to face it, his eyebrows chasing his hairline.  The cat remained still, sitting on its haunches, its tail twitching a little under his intense scrutiny.  He might have written this entire experience as a hallucination, if his head wasn't pounding so painfully.  It truly _was_ there, a mysterious creature capable of speech.  Outwardly, there wasn't anything seemingly amiss: it appeared to be, for all intents and purposes, just a regular black cat.  But the complete absence of any trace of spiritual power he had noticed earlier on was plenty worrisome, even without the baffling capability of speech.

 

"What… what _are_ you?" he asked the creature, mouth agape.

 

"Well," the cat said, sending a shiver down his spine with its calm voice.  Honestly, he didn't think the novelty of it would wear off no matter how much time he spent in its company.  "I suppose it'll be easier to show you than to try and explain.  I don't think you'd believe me even if I did."

 

For a moment, nothing happened.  The cat remained still, simply staring at him with its brilliant, golden eyes.  And then, out of nowhere, the pulse of spiritual pressure hit the air, one whose signature he knew all too well.

 

His reaction was immediate.  Even the cat, which had so expertly eluded him all morning, seemed to be in shock by his speed as he swooped down upon it, grabbing it by the nape before it had time to do much more than blink.  He could feel his blood pounding in his ears, and the need for more information was the only thing stopping him from cutting the animal down.

 

"What did you do to Yoruichi?" he said, holding the cat up before him, his free hand hovering over the hilt of Benihime.

 

The cat gaped at him for a second, its jaw comically slack, before it adopted a more cat-like expression once again.  "The concern is touching and all, but I'm—"

 

" _What_ did you _do_ to her?"

 

"Oh, for the love of— I didn't do anything, you idiot!" the cat said.  "I _am_ Yoruichi!"

 

The excuse was so outlandish, so far-fetched, that he couldn't help but let out a scoff, despite the severity of the situation.  It seemed even malignant spirits were not without a sense of humor, after all.  "That's… actually _almost_ amusing," he said.  "Now let's hear the truth."

 

The cat let out a groan, shaking its head.  "You want me to prove it to you?" it said.  "Fine.  Your birthday is on December 31st but we always celebrate it together at midnight, you have a long scar on your right bicep which _I_ gave you about five months ago during training and it just never healed properly—"

 

Though the fact that the malignant spirit knew even that much about him was worrying, none of it was exactly confidential.  "Yes, yes, all _highly_ classified information—"      

 

"It took you _four weeks_ to learn how to whistle.  And I know for a fact that you look _dashing_ in a grey furisode and red lip stain."

 

Kisuke nearly dropped the cat at the sound of that last piece of information.  There were only three people in the world who had ever seen him in that furisode: Yoruichi, Tessai and Ms. Fujiwara.  And though he doubted the latter two had ever shared that visual with anyone else, it wasn't entirely outside the realm of possibility.  That _first_ bit on the other hand…

 

**_"It_ does _feel exactly like her.  The two essences match completely."_**

 

Brows coming together, Kisuke carefully let go of the cat's nape, cupping its chest with his other hand to hold it up and scrutinize it from all angles.  The cat made no effort to escape, which he took as a good sign, though he still refused to let his guard down entirely.

 

"Do you believe me now?" the cat asked.

 

Kisuke didn't respond, his eyes flitting from the creature's own – _Hazel.  Almost_ g _olden-_ to the rest of its body.  Bringing his other hand forward, he held the cat up right in front of his face.  "I…  Why is your voice male-sounding?"

 

"Well, I was actually hoping _you_ might help me out there.  I don't exactly understand everything about— _WHAT ARE YOU DOING._ "

 

His eyes rolled up from their previous position right between the cat's hind legs and its tail.  "I was just—"

 

In a very disquieting mix of human and feline behavior, the cat narrowed its eyes at him, ears slanted back, tail puffed up.  "YOU HAVE THREE SECONDS TO PUT ME DOWN OR YOU LOSE THE NOSE."

 

"I'm starting to believe you _now_."

 

The cat let out a frustrated sigh.  "You know, I wasn't going to do this, but you leave me no choice," it said.  "Get me a yukata or something."

 

 _……What?_   "A yukata?  What could you possibly need with—?"

 

"I need it because Kotone is my _friend,_ and I'm quite sure she wouldn't appreciate me doing this," the cat said.  "Put me down, bring out a yukata and I'll prove it to you once and for all."

 

Was this a trick?  Was the creature trying to get him to let go so it could escape?  It certainly sounded that way, but if there _was_ a possible escape route in a locked room with all the windows shut, the cat could have easily tried to run for it when he had first loosened his grip.  Eyes narrowed, he lowered the cat down onto the kotatsu, but made no further movements, watching her carefully, arms folded before his chest.

 

"All right, _fine_ ," the cat said.  "Just don't say I didn't warn you."  It hopped down onto the mat then turned around to face him again.

 

The cat's dark fur stood on end as it stared at him resolutely.  There was a quick, odd ripple of energy in the air and then the creature's eyes began to glow brighter, as its whole body became enveloped with a bright, white essence.  It was the exact color and shape of Yoruichi's spiritual pressure, down to the jagged edges.  The small body became distorted, both hind and front legs starting to lengthen, and Kisuke felt his mouth drop, his back breaking out in cold sweat.  _What… what in the name of…?_ As the front limbs stopped growing, the paws elongated into what was unmistakably hands, and the creature was now crouched down, black slumped over as its lower limbs continued to lengthen, the narrow core expanding at the top and bottom, but tapering in the middle.  The creature stood up to full height as its fur began to withdraw into nothing, giving way to dark, smooth skin until there was nothing left, save from a long mane of black hair now tumbling down the woman's back, a pair of sharp eyebrows and a small patch of coarse hair between her thighs.

 

"Hence, the yukata."

Kisuke's eyes shot up to meet hers.  Where the cat had been standing but seconds ago, now stood Yoruichi, in the flesh.  Quite literally.

 

Not too long ago, when he had been in the presence of a naked girl for the first time, the reveal had been gradual, allowing him to appreciate each and every body part slowly, and in succession.  The sudden visual of a completely unclothed girl, and _Yoruichi_ at that, was a little too overwhelming.  He had no idea where to look, his eyes flitting everywhere and nowhere, from the lean, sculpted limbs –she truly was all muscle- to the defined abdomen, to the gentle curve of her hips, the long neck, the delicate collarbone, the swell of her breasts.  _Cat… cat… She was a CAT and now **naked** … what… **WHAT**._

 

Of all the ways he had pictured this happening in the past –and there had been _many_ \- nudity preceded by animal transformation had oddly not made it on the list.

 

She had always been a stunning girl, ever since childhood, so striking that not even the ever-powerful force of puberty had been able to leave its mark on her and force her to go through an awkward stage.  If anything, she had blossomed in its wake little by little every single day, and he was just now coming to the realization that he kept calling her a girl, when everything about the lithe, naked body before him screamed _Woman_ , instead. 

 

He could spend an entire lifetime counting the times he had imagined what she might looked like unclothed, but none of the thousands of possible permutations in his imagination matched reality.  Her hips were wider than he'd originally thought, and while he'd seen flashes of her abdomen during training, he had never pictured it to be quite so toned.  It was a ridiculous thing to be disappointed over, considering the sight, but he felt a little crestfallen that he was only afforded a front view of her.  He had always been partial to her back, always loved the ripple of muscles between her shoulder blades, and her long, graceful neck.  Then again, the visual of her breasts, though just a touch smaller than he'd imagined, was—

 

"Should I ask again?"

 

Her words stirred him out of his reverie, making him realize that he had been gaping at her naked body for far too long than could be deemed accidental.  Looking away, he rushed over to his closet at once and pulled out the first piece of clothing his hand wrapped around.  Thankfully, it turned out to be his blue, striped yukata.

 

Wordlessly, eyes very deliberately trained on the floor, he held the robe out to her.  It occurred to him then that perhaps he should apologize for having ogled at her that way.  In his defense, it _had_ been awfully sudden, not to mention a massive shock – _A **cat**.  She was a **CAT** just now. HOW-_ but he still should have averted his gaze far sooner than he had. 

 

"Sorry," he muttered, as she took the yukata off his hand.  "I uhh… didn't mean to umm…  It was just…"  _Do **not** say hard, do not **dare** to utter the word hard: it will be your downfall.  Just say anything!  **Any** synonym will do!  Firm, rigi—NOPE. NO.  Solid, tough— _ "…difficult.  Not to stare, that is.  Bit of a shock," he said at long last, allowing himself to breathe again.

 

"I _did_ warn you."

 

"That you did.  Sorry."

 

He waited what he felt was a sufficient amount of time, then turned toward her, eyes gradually travelling up her legs to make sure she was clothed before he made an attempt to meet her eyes.  She had just now finished tying the belt around her waist, then she slipped her hands over her nape to pull her long hair out.  And despite the fact that he had just seen her completely nude, the sight of her, in _his clothes_ , the top of her back peeking out from the loose collar as she gently let her hair down, cheeks slightly flushed, was the most erotic visual he had ever witnessed.

 

Yoruichi shifted her gaze over to him, her pupils dilated, and the slight glimmer of shyness in her eyes sent his heart racing.

 

"Don't let Kotone know about this, okay?" she said.  "It'll just upset her."

 

It took Kisuke a moment to process her words.  _Kaneko?  Why does she keep bringing her up?  What does she have to do with—?_   With a start, he realized Yoruichi clearly had no idea that things had ended between him and Kaneko on the morning after their group outing to Rukongai.  He was surprised Kaneko wouldn't have brought it up, but given their last conversation before parting ways, Kisuke could see why she may have chosen not to say anything.  Especially to Yoruichi.

 

"Right," he said, rubbing the back of his neck and trying not to think about that disastrous night, or read too much into the fact that Yoruichi hadn't mentioned Yoshida at all.  Fortunately, or _unfortunately_ depending on one's vantage point, the mere mention of Kaneko had been more than enough to completely destroy the moment.

 

"That having been said… I take it back, this _is_ pretty amusing," she said, the stiffness in her shoulders evaporating, her expression turning smug.  "Neck-in-neck between you screaming like a little girl and being buried under a mountain of books."

 

Kisuke rolled his eyes at her, feeling his whole face burn even as he let out a small grin.  "So…"

 

"So…?"

 

"That was, umm… interesting."

 

Yoruichi arched both eyebrows at him, one hand resting on her hip.

 

"I meant the— I wasn't referring to— YOU WERE A _CAT_."

 

"Oh, that," Yoruichi said.

 

"Yes, _that_ ," Kisuke said.  "Care to offer an explanation?"

 

Yoruichi shrugged, suddenly looking a little sheepish.  Thinking it was a good idea to sit down after the kind of morning he'd just had, he motioned at her to join him over by the kotatsu, which should additionally provide ample cover until a very pressing situation currently developing within him resolved itself.  Taking a seat across him, Yoruichi toyed with the rim of one sleeve – _My clothes.  She is **naked** underneath **my** clothes. STOPIT-_ looking a little lost as to how to begin. 

 

Taking a deep breath, she began by telling him that she had finally achieved first release a while ago, and how frustrated she had been that it had refused to yield anything whatsoever.  She had noticed, however, aside from a general boost in her speed and raw power, that all her senses would at times be heightened.  Whenever she would communicate with her spirit –"Her name is Maya," she said with a smile- she could feel an odd, suffocating sensation, like her entire existence was being forced into a smaller vessel.  She described how she would wake up at nights, restless and soaked in sweat after experiencing strange dreams, her ears picking up sounds in the distance they shouldn't be capable of registering.  Little by little, Maya had nudged her along the path that had led to her transformation, whispering strange pieces of advice to her, supporting her when she made positive progress.

 

"Wait, wait…" Kisuke said, holding one hand up.  "Are you saying this is a shikai ability of your weapon?"

 

"I think so," she said.  "It's… strange, right?  I haven't heard of anything like it before.  Have you?"  It was clear from her expression she had been banking on him knowing something about this.

 

"No," Kisuke said, now thoroughly impressed and more than a little jealous for her incredibly rare, possibly unique ability.  Still, all shikai abilities he knew of were a means to attack or defend in battle.  She couldn't very well use the cat form mid-fight, and he was certain she knew it.  There were also enhancing abilities that affected the wielder, but nothing like what Yoruichi was experiencing.  "Maybe it's more of a… passive ability?" he suggested.

 

Yoruichi simply shrugged.  "I've been busting my head over this for weeks and haven't come up with a better explanation."

 

"For _weeks_?  You've been…"  Kisuke trailed off.  Pursing his lips, he let out a sigh and even as the words left his lips, he knew he was being a massive hypocrite.  "Why didn't you tell me anything?" he asked. 

 

" _Because_ …" Yoruichi said, gesturing vaguely with her hands.  "It's… it's _weird_.  Very interesting, I _guess,_ but really, _really_ weird!" she said.  "I didn't know _what_ to tell you because I didn't understand it myself." she went on, letting out a hollow, humorless chuckle.  "I can't use it in battle, it's not— What's it even _for_?  I mean, in terms of its use for espionage it's _excellent_ , but _really_?  Everyone has all these useful abilities, like your shield, or an energy blast, or elemental forces on their side and I get _feline transformation_?"

 

Understanding her need to vent, Kisuke hadn't uttered a word while Yoruichi ranted, letting her get it out of her system without any judgment or questions she obviously couldn't answer.  He knew that for someone of Yoruichi's talent and brilliance, her shikai simply hadn't lived up to her expectations.  It was a unique –as far as he could tell- ability among Soul Reapers and dead useful, but not in battle, as she had pointed out.  Then again, Yoruichi had never really needed the extra help.  Aside from the boost in spiritual energy a released Soul Cutter gave to its wielder, the accompanying abilities were meant to be a boon and she was—

 

"Oh," Kisuke said, not really meaning to say it out loud.  His eyes glazed over, looking at Yoruichi without seeing her, as he followed his train of thought to its logical conclusion.

 

"What? _What_?" Yoruichi said, sounding hopeful. 

 

It was so simple, really:  Yoruichi didn't need the help.  "I know why," he said, grinning at her.  "I know why you got this power and why you probably won't be getting any more shikai abilities."

 

"Oh, _that's_ cheerful, thanks," Yoruichi quipped, her face falling again.

 

Kisuke shook his head and held his hands up in a placatory manner.  "No, no, _listen,_ " he said.  "Okay… Truth?"

 

Yoruichi frowned at him, looking wary of what she was about to hear, but nodded anyway.

 

"Your swordsmanship is… well… it's good.  More than good.  Way above average," Kisuke said.  "But you never enjoy it.  When you spar, you do it because it's a requirement, because you _have_ to.  And that's why you'll always be a proficient at it, but not great at it."

 

"Your tone suggests I should be feeling good about myself right about now," Yoruichi said, expression even cloudier, arms folded against her chest.  "Still not happening."

 

"Be patient," Kisuke said, pointing a finger at her.  "I'm getting to it."

 

"Get to it faster."

 

"Don't you see?  You don't need the weapon!" Kisuke said, grinning broadly at her.  "We talked about this back in the first semester: you've never liked it much and you can wipe the floor with anyone using only your bare hands.  That's what you love doing.  That's what you're _great_ at.  And Maya knows it."

 

"But—"

 

"She's not a _sword_ ," Kisuke said.  "The sword is just a physical manifestation, remember?  What your Soul Cutter truly is, is a part of _you_.  Why would Maya aid your swordsmanship any further when you don't want it or need it?  Why not give you a power you can actually use?  You mentioned you've also noticed your speed and power has been enhanced, right?"

 

Yoruichi's back had gone ramrod straight as she listened to him, her expression mellower, though still a little uncertain. 

 

"I mean, you can _transform_ into another _species_ ," Kisuke said.  "I'll look it up for you if you want, but I'm fairly certain this has never happened before in the history of Soul Society.  Ever."

 

Yoruichi's lips twitched upward at his words, her hands bunched up in the overlong sleeves of his yukata.  "It _is_ pretty cool, isn't it?" she said quietly.

 

"What can you do?" he asked her.  "In that form, I mean.  I know you can do something to your spiritual essence, I couldn't feel a thing."

 

Yoruichi nodded, now unable to contain her eagerness to gush all about her new power. She leaned over the kotatsu, her grin broad and vibrant.  "I don't even have to try," she said.  "It almost _completely_ masks it!  I should probably work on it, though, _you_ noticed it was odd, so thanks for the tip.  Night vision is _amazing_.  It's clearer than my normal vision during daytime.  Everything is sharp, crystal clear.  And then there's the heightened senses.  Kisuke, you can't even imagine," she said, shaking her head.  "I can hear and smell _everything_.  I could even pick up on Captain Ukitake's essence when he was demonstrating masking to a class."  Seeing the questioning look in Kisuke's eyes, she explained.  "Well, I had to take it out for a spin a couple of times, didn't I?  I already knew I could identify spiritual energy differently in that form, so I wanted to see how powerful it was."

 

Kisuke beamed at her.  It was impossible not to, her enthusiasm was contagious.  It was obvious this had been weighing on her for a while now, and he was glad she was now focused on all the positive aspects, rather than lament the fact that her power was vastly different than anyone else's.

 

Yoruichi returned the smile with equal fervor.  "So… you really believe it?  That this is something Maya decided I needed, and not some… freak accident or something?"

 

"Of course," Kisuke said.  "I wasn't patronizing you, I meant it all." 

 

"Well… you made me feel better, so thanks," she said, bringing her knees up to her chest and putting her arms around them. 

 

Kisuke leaned forward on his elbows, folding his hands.  "One last thing," he said, his expression darkening.  Yoruichi's shoulders tensed up.  "The _talking_?"

 

Yoruichi let out a snort, covering her mouth behind the blue sleeve of his yukata.  "Yes?"

 

"Was the timbre deliberate?"

 

"I don't know!" Yoruichi said, bursting into laughter.  "It's the form's natural voice, I guess?  The first time I spoke in cat form it just came out that way.  Must be something about the different vocal chords."

 

Kisuke nodded at her, crossing his arms as he gave her a scrutinizing gaze.  The voice alone was a mystery all of its own, and it was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to this fascinating power.  Given the shock of seeing her transform for the first time, he hadn't really paid attention to the shifting spiritual particles between forms.  The most interesting question was whether there would be a change in her spiritual signature for the duration, which would imply that the transformation worked on a molecular level, rearranging—

 

"Stop it," Yoruichi said.

 

"I'm not doing anything."

 

"You're _thinking_ ," she said, pointing a finger at him, eyes narrowed down to slits.  "And I know _exactly_ what.  Two things, to be precise."

 

Kisuke arched an eyebrow at that. 

 

"You want to _study_ me," she said.  "Which is out of the question."

 

Well, that was a disappointment, though not unexpected.  He did think he might manage to talk her into it at some point in the future, but it was of little significance right now; the second matter was far more pressing.  "I suppose that one was rather obvious," he said.  "What's the second one?"

 

"You want me to clean out your garden.  Also out of the question."

 

"Oh, _come on_!  I'll pay you in snacks!"

 

"No."

 

"Milk?"

 

"I'll take the yukata."

 

"The— Huh," Kisuke said, brow creasing.  One yukata for a complete garden extermination?  That was more than fair, and— _WAIT. **That** yukata?  **My** yukata?  She… she wants to keep it?  And… wear it?_

 

"In exchange for me finding you a good gardener, that is."

 

He paid little mind to the addendum, focusing instead on her request.  "You… you like the robe?"

 

Yoruichi shrugged, holding out one dangling sleeve before her face.  "It's comfy.  Plus, I need to wear something to return to my dorm," she said.  "Wouldn't want to traumatize you again."

 

 _Yes, we definitely wouldn't want **that**._   "All right.  You can keep it."

 

Yoruichi grinned, running her hands down the front of the robe – _Hhnnnnngghh-_ and looking pleased, then stood up on her feet.  "I'd better go," she said.  "I was meant to be back home for lunch, but _someone_ took forever to wake up."

 

"Yes, I know, it was terribly rude of me to prolong the wait for my complete and utter unhinging at the hands of a talking cat," he drawled.

 

"Too right," Yoruichi said, smirking as she stepped into the bedroom and pulled the window open.  She sat down on the windowsill, legs dangling over the side as she prepared to leave.  "Expect a gardener to show up at your door tomorrow."

 

Kisuke leaned against the wall, nodding.  "Enjoy the yukata."

 

With a parting wave, Yoruichi hopped down onto the grass and sped away, the overly long robe flowing behind her as she ran.  Kisuke took her previous seat on the windowsill as he watched her go, resigning himself to the fact that he would _never_ again get a peaceful night's sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fujita Hayate (Kisuke's dorm mate) is singing Omoigawa (River of Memory), a normally beautiful, poignant song about unsuccessful love, which I assume would sound especially grating when sung by someone of little musical talent. It should be noted that because of its melancholy mood, it is often sung at memorial services, which makes it a pretty disturbing song to wake up to first thing in the morning. Fujita thinks it's romantic *shrugs*
> 
> Hana Shihōin's struggles with infertility were always meant to be a part of the story. Originally, before Yūshirō made an appearance, I had assumed Yoruichi was an only child, so it made sense to me that her parents would've at least tried for more heirs. What really sold me on the idea was Sui Feng's words during the flashback, when she very specifically points out that Yoruichi was the first woman to ever hold the position of Head of the Clan (and probably Commander of the Onmitsukidō, though the way the sentence is phrased leaves that open to interpretation). And as much as I adore the fact that Yoruichi one-upped the patriarchy so beautifully, I am now really glad that I'll be able to give Hana a happier 'ending' with Yūshirō's future birth. For more of my thoughts on Hana, as well as her relationship with Yoruichi, check out the extra notes. 
> 
> The scenes leading up to Yoruichi revealing her cat form were actually the very first I wrote for this story, when trying to get a feel for the characters and such. Yoruichi dropping a cicada in Kisuke's cup was just a funny little detail that simply occurred to me at the time, but it was from there that I got the idea to make Kisuke hate bugs. It's a very random character trait and there's nothing tying it to canon, but it amused me to think of a powerful man quivering at the sight of a harmless little bug. As the designated bug slayer in my own home, I know all too well that it's not only women who hate/fear them (except for grasshoppers who can totally go fuck themselves *shudders* ).
> 
> As you probably gathered from this chapter, there is only one more academy instalment left. As much as I've enjoyed writing about these formative years, I'm more than eager to move on with the story and start writing them as adults.


	10. The Hand that Feeds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have mentioned gigai mechanics before in passing, but for this chapter, I needed to lock down my headcanons. Certain facts in my story may seem outdated in comparison to what happens in canon, but bear in mind that this is more than two hundred years in the past. Gigai technology is going to evolve along the way, largely due to Kisuke's contributions, as has been heavily implied in canon. 
> 
> No tumblr notes this time around! Enjoy the chapter, and thank you so very much for all the lovely comments/kudos on the previous instalment.
> 
> Cultural notes:
> 
> Firefly weed (Hotaru-kazura): This is what Kūkaku tells Ishida keeps her underground hallways lit when he asks, and she offers no further explanation. Hotaru is the Japanese word for firefly, and kazura is the word for creeping plant, or kudzu. The term Firefly Weed is entirely my own invention; all we get in the series is the Japanese term, but it was what inspired me to make the Shibas a mix of horticulturists/alchemists. 
> 
> The Chinese New Year: Up until 1873 the Japanese New Year followed the Chinese lunar calendar. As such, the date would fluctuate from late January to early February. In 1773 (the real-world date this chapter takes place during), NY's fell on January, but in 1774, the NY's date was February 11th. I went with the 1774 date, as it fit my story purposes better. 
> 
> Tasuki: Since kimono sleeves are very wide and square, they can't be pulled up like regular sleeves. Tasuki are long straps of cloth which are used for precisely that purpose. I have no idea if tasuki were carried on one's person as indicated in the chapter, but I couldn't find any info on this, and since men traditionally carried small items in their obi, I went with that.
> 
> Tabi: Ankle-high socks, usually white, with the big toe separated by the other four. Meant to be worn with sandals. Jika-tabi are an outdoor version of these, sporting hard soles that effectively make them shoes, meaning that they are worn without sandals (they are also an anachronism, but Kubo uses them in canon, so… *shrugs*). 
> 
> Musical instruments: Taiko is a drum, Shakuhachi is a flute of sorts made out of bamboo, and the Shamisen is a three-stringed instrument with a square box and a long, slim neck, used often in both kabuki and folk songs. 
> 
> Banzai: A cry which literally means 'ten thousand years' and is used either as an exclamation for prosperity, or more famously, as a war cry before a kamikaze charge. Funnily enough, it holds both meanings simultaneously in this chapter.
> 
> Kosode: A short kimono that reaches to about mid-thigh.

**OCTOBER 12 TH, 1946 A.D., URAHARA SHOP, KARAKURA TOWN, JAPAN **

 

As if sneaking back into Japan wasn't already a hassle while it remained under occupation by the Allies, Yoruichi had had to spend the last leg of her journey in a bus packed with _Australians_.  As far as she was concerned, English was a confounding enough language as it was; adding a bewildering accent on top of it was a recipe for a raging headache, as she'd spent the entire trip in that infuriating state of being on the verge of _nearly_ understanding what was being said, but never truly grasping it.

 

 _Just when I was starting to get used to Americans, too._  

 

The war had left her feeling stir-crazy and more than eager to get back to travelling.  Though human wars were incapable of physically affecting them, the emotional damage that came with witnessing such wide-spread brutality was not easily discarded, as she'd found out only a few ways into her journey, already missing Kisuke and Tessai.  She spent far too many a night abroad worrying over the possibility of the war rekindling, of her home being destroyed, to truly relax and enjoy herself.

 

Exhausted and so very homesick, she scaled up the walls of the _Urahara Shop,_ squeezing in through Kisuke's open window, wanting nothing more than to crawl under the covers next to him and go to sleep. 

 

As she shed her feline skin, returning back to her true form, she smiled fondly at the mound hidden beneath the covers of the bed.  She hadn't been planning on waking him up, but… _Ohh, maybe just for a minute._   Crawling on top of the bed, she was about to pull the blankets down, when she realized that two things were amiss:

 

One, the blanket-covered mound was far too massive to be Kisuke.  Two, this was most certainly _not_ his spiritual pressure.  In fact, it didn't even belong to just _one_ person.

 

"The fuck…?" came a muffled voice beneath the covers.  "Lisa, gerrof!"

 

"M' not doin' anything."

 

"Your _hand_ is on my _boob._ "

 

"You don't _have_ boobs."

 

"Awww, that was mean, Lisa.  But it's true, you kindadon't."

 

"WELL, _SOMEONE_ IS TOUCHING ME!"

 

Pulling her hand away, Yoruichi sat up at the end of the bed, frowning.  "Hiyori…?"

 

"……Yoruichi?"

 

There was a click, and then the room was suddenly illuminated, revealing Lisa, Hiyori and Mashiro under the covers, all wearing similar expression of surprise.

 

"Hey," Yoruichi said, giving them a wave.

 

Lisa's eyes strayed a few centimeters south of Yoruichi's eyes.  " _Heeeey_ …"

 

"WHAT THE HELL KINDA GREETIN' IS THIS?"

 

Before Yoruichi could say anything, a rumble of footsteps up the stairs shook the room and Kisuke burst in through the door.  There was a robe thrown haphazardly over his bare shoulders, his pajama bottoms loose on his hips, his hair a tangled mess; clearly he had been sleeping.  Upon sight of them all, he blinked a number of times, eyes flitting from her to the girls and back again, jaw hanging slack.

 

"Am I still asleep?" he said.

 

A second set of footsteps was heard right in his wake and Hirako came stumbling in, in a similar state of disarray and in search of the offending intruder.

 

Hiyori rolled her eyes.  "OH GREAT.  SHOULD WE EXPECT _MORE_ PEOPLE TO SHOW UP FOR THIS?"

 

Yoruichi didn't know whether she should feel insulted that Hirako had yet to look at her, choosing instead to focus on Hiyori's semi-clad form clinging to the blanket.

 

"Hacchi was just throwin' somethin' on; give 'im a minute," he said.

 

In the absence of anything readily available to toss at him, Hiyori climbed over Mashiro to the side of the bed and was now actively trying to dislodge the drawer from the nightstand.

 

Finally snapping out of it, Kisuke rushed forward and put a stop to her efforts, grinning up at Yoruichi.  "Heeeey, you're back."

 

"Heeeeey, we have _guests_ ," Yoruichi said, climbing off the bed. 

 

Not that it was exactly easy to communicate with her while on a trip, but he could've at least left some sort of signal outside the house, warning her that they had company.  Yoruichi made her way over to the closet to retrieve a yukata, a little shaken by the unexpected visitors.

 

"C'mon girls.  We're vacatin' the bed," Lisa said.

 

"No need," Yoruichi said as she slipped the robe on.  "I'll sleep downstairs, you guys keep the bed."

 

"I tried," Lisa told Kisuke, shrugging apologetically.  "Sorry for cokblockin' ya."

 

"It's fine," Yoruichi said as she approached the door.  "Go back to sleep, I'll give you a proper welcome in the morning."

 

"I dunno, I kinda liked this one?" Mashiro said.

 

" _Right_?"

 

Grinning broadly, Kisuke casually threw an arm around her shoulder as they stepped out of the room and closed the door, drowning out Hiyori's swears at Lisa and Mashiro.  Hirako was already at the foot of the stairs, calling out toward the living room that it had been a false alarm and they could all get back to bed.

 

Kisuke brought them to a stop after a couple of steps, looking up to the door and down toward the corridor for any signs of onlookers, before gently pinning her against the wall.  "How was Ceylon?" he said, slipping his arms around her waist.

 

It might've been the start of something promising if their house wasn't chock full of _guests._   Yoruichi grinned at him all the same, palms sliding up his bare chest.  "Green.  Warm.  Crystalline waters."

 

"Mmmm, you're looking quite tan, indeed," he said, leaning closer to her.  "Welcome, by the way."

 

The low, sensual timbre of his voice was already wreaking havoc within her, and his lips came in to finish the job, rendering her into a quivering mess against the wall, her knees growing weak.  Yoruichi forked a hand through his hair, her mind growing hazy as her senses were instantly assaulted on all fronts by his familiar smell, his taste, the feel of his hands on her back and nape.

 

 ** _Damn_** _their timing!_   

 

Pushing him away gently, Yoruichi licked her lips and lowered her voice.  "So umm… Not that I'm not happy to see them, but… how long are our guests going to be hanging around?"

 

Kisuke grinned at her, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.  "They're looking for a place, actually," he said.

 

"They're moving to Karakura?"

 

Kisuke nodded.

 

"That's nice," she said, and she genuinely meant it.  Though she hadn't been as close to any of them as Kisuke was to Hirako, she had missed their company.  That didn't change the fact that they had just massively cockblocked her, to quote Lisa, after a separation that had felt far longer than two months.  "But how long are they _staying_?"

 

In response, Kisuke smirked at her, pulling his arms away and stroking his chin.  "Hmmm, you know, you're looking a little tense," he said.  "Long trip and everything.  I bet you could do with a bath."

 

His suggestion reminded her of just how thoroughly unpleasant the bus ride had been, and Yoruichi rubbed her sore neck.  She might've considered visiting a bathhouse first if it wasn't the middle of the night.  "Yes, well… that'll have to wait till morning—"

 

"Will it?" Kisuke said, wrapping one hand around hers.  "I wonder…"

 

Yoruichi arched an eyebrow at his smug expression, allowing herself to be led down the stairs and over to the kitchen.  Where there had once been one door, now there were two.  Kisuke pushed the new door open, his smirk broader than ever, and Yoruichi saw that in her absence, the large kitchen had been sectioned off into two smaller rooms.

 

And the new room was a _bath_.   

 

Gasping, she whirled around to face him.  "We have an _indoor bath_?" she said, her eyes widening.  She'd heard of them, knew they were a common occurrence in the west, but for Japan, this was a true novelty for anything other than the most affluent homes.  The last time she had even laid eyes on one, it had been back in Soul Society.

 

"Like it?" Kisuke said.

 

Biting her lower lip, Yoruichi craned her neck in search of anyone approaching.  When she was satisfied they were well and truly alone, she reached for the front of Kisuke's robe and yanked him into the bathroom.  "I'll let you know once I've tried it."

 

All in all, it wasn't the kind of welcome she'd been expecting.  The pleasant interlude in the bath aside, she'd spent the rest of the night in the company of no fewer than seven snoring men.  And yet Yoruichi found there was little to complain about come morning, when she awoke to the tantalizing smell of fresh ginger and miso soup.  From Kisuke's constant, low-key humming, to the sound of sizzling pork coming from the kitchen and the steady hum of conversation, the Karakura house was abuzz with energy that day.  Between Kisuke's tendency to require a solid two hours to achieve lucidity in the mornings, Tessai's long morning baths and her own solitary trips, Yoruichi had rarely ever woken up to anything other than near silence. 

 

She was eager for a little pampering this morning, but upon washing up and starting to get her bearings, she and Rose were somehow roped into making trips to and from the kitchen as Kensei and Tessai cooked enough breakfast to feed a small army.

 

"Jia… Jawa… Jawarden—"

 

Yoruichi laughed from her perch atop the counter right next to Tessai.  "Jayawardenepura," she said, correcting Kensei.  After nagging Tessai to add some of the spices she had sent along into the large pot of miso soup he was stirring, the topic of her trip to Ceylon had come up.  "Sri Jayawardenepura Kotte."

 

Kensei shook his head as he skillfully tossed bite-sized pork pieces in a pan.  "You'd think they'd choose a place whose name is actually pronounceable."

 

"The locals just call it Kotte," Yoruichi said, shrugging.  She held her loose hair back as Tessai dangled a wooden spoon in front of her for a taste.  "Hmm… Bit more akamiso," she said, licking her lower lip.  "Anyway, Sri Jayawardenepura is actually a title.  It means _resplendent city of growing victory_."

 

"How poetic," Rose said, smiling at her.  "I bet there's a magnificent story behind this."

 

"Which you can listen to after you _poetically_ take this to the living room," Kensei said, handing Rose a heaving plate of freshly fried pork with a side of ginger.  "Chop-chop." 

 

Rose rolled his eyes at Kensei, then set off.  Yoruichi quickly followed, carrying a stack of bowls piled up in one hand, the rice basket in the other.  "Is every morning like this with you guys around?" she asked Rose on the way to the living room.

 

"More or less," Rose said, chuckling.

 

Limited options for privacy aside, Yoruichi mused that she could get used to this, and found that she no longer minded their Visored friends taking their time in finding new quarters of their own.  "Okaaaay, breakfast is h—" she said, but upon stepping into the living room, she found herself freezing on the spot.

 

There was a package open in Kisuke's lap, and he was modeling its contents for the amused audience.  Hirako's grin in particular stretched from ear to ear.

 

Yoruichi met Kisuke's gaze and shook her head.  "No."

 

"Awww, come on!" he said, tilting up the brim of the green and white striped hat now perched atop his head.  "It goes with my clothes, look!" he said, pointing down at the green shirt and pants he wore today.  The only item of clothing breaking the color pattern was the black haori he had draped over him.

 

"NO."

 

"It's the latest fashion in America, accordin' to the vendor who sold 'em to me," Hirako said.  "And _look_!  I got him a bunch so he can have replacements, _just in case any of 'em ever get damaged or misplaced._ "

 

Yoruichi met the challenge in Hirako's brown eyes head on, breathing in through her nose and seriously considering doing some damage with the bowls and basket she was carrying.

 

Probably sensing her murderous intent, Rose quickly set down the food he was carrying and ambled over to relieve Yoruichi of hers.  "What's with the second barrier today?" he said, addressing Kisuke, in a clear effort to change the subject.

 

"I'm expecting a shipment for the shop any moment now," Kisuke said.  "Had Tessai block off the entire house save for the storefront as an extra precaution."

 

Yoruichi felt herself be gently guided toward the kotatsu by Rose and urged to sit down, all the while glaring at Hirako, her arms folded in front of her chest.  Unperturbed, Hirako very ostentatiously picked up a piece of fried pork and tossed it into his mouth, smiling at her.

 

At the sound of the bell in the foyer, Kisuke got up on his feet.  "Ah, that'd be Miss Kotetsu," he said.

 

Just as Kisuke left the living room to welcome the girl, Yoruichi narrowed her eyes even further at Hirako and pressed both palms on the surface of the kotatsu, leaning closer.  

 

"Why do you _hate_ me?" she said.

 

Hirako licked his lips, smirking at her.  "Payback's a bitch, innit?  You sully my good reputation, I make yer boyfriend wear a stylish, though admittedly _distinctive_ hat for the foreseeable future."

 

"That was thirty seven years ago!"

 

"Exactly.  Enjoy the next four decades."

 

Shaking her head at Hirako and already planning how to exact revenge, Yoruichi filled one bowl with rice and dug in, every now and then reaching for his chosen pieces of pork off the platter before he could get to them.  The situation was quickly devolving into a match of chopstick swordfighting, and she still maintained that _she_ had been winning, right up to the point that Kensei called at her and Rose to get back to the kitchen and carry more food.

 

Yoruichi dropped her chopsticks on the table, promising Hirako that this was _far_ from over.  On the way to the kitchen, she was unceremoniously pulled aside in the corridor and whirled around, then pinned against the wall, coming face to face with a grinning Kisuke. 

 

Under different circumstances, she might've questioned this strange new affinity for open displays of affection, but she knew how much the Visored's visit had lifted his spirits.  She liked to think her return had a little something to do with his good mood as well, but at any rate, she didn't resist his advances, even though he was refusing to take off that ridiculous hat.

 

Kisuke must've sensed her opposition to his latest sartorial choice, as he pulled away from her, a very knowing grin on his lips.  "You're thinking about the hat, aren't you?"

 

" _Please_ take it off?" Yoruichi said, grimacing at the thing.

 

"I like it," he said, straightening up and gently flicking the brim again.  "And so did Miss Kotetsu.  She said it makes me look distinguished."

 

Yoruichi glared at the offending accessory and let out a sigh, realizing that this wasn't a battle she was going to win at this moment.  "You _ever_ wear that thing in bed and I'm changing rooms.  _Permanently_ ," she said, slipping out of his embrace and heading back to the kitchen.

 

With the cooking done, Rose and Yoruichi carried the last few plates to the living room, while Tessai and Kensei stayed behind to do a bit of cleaning up before joining them.  Over the course of breakfast, Yoruichi tried to spill hot miso soup over the package of hats more than once, only to be foiled time and time again by Hirako, who was watching her like a hawk. 

 

She was down to her seventh attempt, when a throwaway comment by Hiyori put a damper on the festive atmosphere. 

 

"You seemed pretty chummy with her," she said.

 

Yoruichi had to backtrack mentally a few steps to understand that they had been talking about the shop and the young Soul Reaper who had brought the shipment.

 

Kisuke shrugged at Hiyori, taking a sip of his miso soup.  "Why wouldn't I be?  She's a very pleasant girl, I like her," he said.  It was only a second too late that he seemed to realize he had said something wrong.

 

Hiyori fell into a deep scowl, pushing her breakfast away.  "So… what, you're _friends_ with them now?"

 

Kisuke let out a gentle scoff, a very particular grin appearing on his lips.  Yoruichi instantly recognized it as the signature calm, reassuring façade he had perfected over the years when ready to tell a lie.  "I think you're confusing being cordial, with being actual—"

 

"Don' gimme that crap," Hiyori said.  "I _know_ what you sound like when you're jus' bein' polite for the sake of it and that was _not_ it."

 

"Hiyori," Love said, giving her a warning glare.  "It is none of our business—"

 

Ignoring Love and rounding up on Hirako, Hiyori sprang up on her feet.  "Did you even _bother_ to tell 'im why we left Osaka, or was that forgotten in the spirit of friendship, rainbows and togetherness and such shit?"  

 

Hirako very deliberately avoided both Hiyori's and Kisuke's gazes, as the latter looked between them in alarm, frowning.  "Tell me what?  What happened in Osaka?"

 

"I was goin' to," Hirako said, tentatively making eye contact with Kisuke.  "Once we found our own place—"

 

"We were _attacked,_ that's what fuckin' happened," Hiyori said, cutting in.  "By his Lordship, the Grand Douchebag of Aizen.  Or rather some of his cronies."

 

"Aizen made a move?" Kisuke said, turning to Hirako.  "Hirako—"

 

"See, _this_ is why I wanted to wait—"

 

"That's not all, either!" Hiyori went on, relentless.  "Those _cronies_ , I mentioned?  Mostly Hollow-Soul Reaper hybrids.  Didja know they have a _name_ now?  Call themselves Arrancar.  Hollows that can _remove their friggin' masks._ "

 

"Okay, Hiyori, stop this," Hirako said, before Kisuke had a chance to interrupt again.  "We should take things from the start—"

 

"And _last but not least,_ these Arrancar were led by a troop of _Soul Reapers_ ," Hiyori said, and it was clear this had been the piece of information she had most wanted to part with, the issue that had sparked her whole tirade in the first place.  "The same people you were actin' all la-di-da with," she said, directly addressing Kisuke now.  "Like they didn't jus' cast us _all_ off an' tried to shame us for gettin' screwed over by their own fucked up laws."

 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Kisuke shut his eyes for a second.  "Hiyori, I never—"

 

"We came here to _warn_ you," Hiyori went on, now clearly beyond reason in her rage.  "Came back so we could help each other, an' now we find you're tryin' to get back in their good graces?  ARE YOU _FUCKIN'_ KIDDIN' ME?"

 

Yoruichi was about to put an end to this charade, the anger she had so far struggled to contain frothing out of her in torrents, but she was beat to the punch by a booming voice.

 

"That is ENOUGH."

 

The whole room turned to find Tessai standing by the threshold, his face a mask of stone.  Next to him, Kensei was very deliberately staring at the floor.

 

"I'm not even _close_ to done—"

 

"Yes, you are," Hirako said, cutting Hiyori off, and looking angrier than Yoruichi had ever seen him.  "Tessai is right, that was _completely_ outta line."

 

"You didn't even—!"

 

"Hiyori… Stop," Hirako said as he stood up, the finality in his voice making Hiyori scowl even deeper.  "We are _guests_ in this house, and we are _not_ —"

 

"Hirako, come on," Kisuke said, rubbing his temple.  "This isn't—"

 

"No, we are your guests, and what jus' happened was _appalling_ ," Hirako said.  "Which is why we're movin' out ASAP."

 

Hurrying up on his feet, Kisuke approached Hirako and leaned into his ear, pressing a hand on his shoulder.  "Don't do this," he said.  "Let's just calm down, talk this through.  You don't have to leave until you've found a new place.  Just… give Hiyori some time to cool down—"

 

"It's not just Hiyori," Hirako said, turning to face Kisuke.

 

Kisuke's hand dropped from Hirako's shoulder as though he had just been electrocuted.  His lips parted, and the expression on his eyes was one the likes of which Yoruichi had only ever witnessed a bare handful of times.  "Hirako…"

 

"Look, I…  I ain't gonna tell ya who to hang out with or not, Kisuke," Hirako said, looking away.  "That's your business.  But Hiyori has a point, even if she has the tact of a bleedin' rhino.  I just… we spent so long tryin' ta find ourselves, piece our lives back together, and now you…"  Hirako shook his head.  "I just hope you know what you're doin' with Soul Society.  You don' get to bite the hand that feeds more than once, Kisuke.  'Cause then it bites right back."

 

Struggling with finding something to say, Kisuke could only open and close his mouth soundlessly, looking anywhere but Hirako's eyes.

 

"I'll get in touch with you in a coupla days or so," Hirako said.  "Promise.  Gotta brief you on that whole Arrancar deal."

 

The following few hours, as the Visored packed their belongings and left their home for the second time, were among the worst Yoruichi had ever experienced.  There were no heartfelt goodbyes, no wistful smiles, no promises to visit or stay in touch.  By the time Hirako gave them a half-hearted parting wave, Kisuke was a visible wreck.

 

He stood there, staring at the closed door for a solid minute, neither Tessai nor Yoruichi able to find any words of comfort for him.  In Yoruichi's case, she was still far too incensed at Hiyori's outburst to be of much help right now, and she decided to remain silent until she was in full control of herself.     

 

Eventually, Kisuke turned around to face them, both eyebrows arched, an awkward, artificial grin plastered on his face.  "Well now… in all that excitement I never even managed to get the shipment in storage," he said, walking over to the wooden containers stationed out in the foyer.

 

"We can do it tomor—" Tessai began, but Kisuke waved a hand at him airily.

 

"No, no, you get some rest, you barely caught your breath all morning," he said.  "I'll do it myself."

 

Yoruichi, feeling she'd had enough of this, was about to put an end to the mockery, when she felt Tessai's strong palm land on her shoulder.  He met her eye and simply shook his head at her.  Without a word, she stalked off to the living room, Tessai following behind her.

 

"Okay," she said, dropping her voice once the door was shut.  "You and I both know he is _not_ taking care of the fucking shipment down there," Yoruichi said.  Though it was mostly used for storage, the half-finished training area beneath the shop also served as the hiding place for something far more sinister, something Yoruichi knew was about to sink its claws into Kisuke once again: the Hōgyoku.

 

"Perhaps he just needs some time alone," Tessai said.

 

"He can go up to the bedroom, or for a walk, or _anywhere_ but locked in a room with that _thing_.  It nearly destroyed him, Tessai," Yoruichi said, thinking of all the nights early on in their exile she had woken up, only to find his side of the bed empty, of the bloodshot eyes come morning, the pallor in his skin, the obsession eating him up on the inside bit by bit.  "And he's been doing _so_ well for decades, he—"

 

Her sentence was cut short by the expression of pity on Tessai's face. 

 

"He—" Yoruichi said, words suddenly failing her.  Chest heaving, her face fell, and she saw the truth reflected in Tessai's eyes.  "Every time I left?"

 

"Not constantly, but… yes."

 

" _Still_?"

 

It was a ridiculous question to ask, that much she knew.  There was no end in sight, no moment in time when Kisuke would just magically stop obsessing over what lay beneath the foundations of their home. 

 

He didn't come to bed until the early morning hours, and even then, he kept his distance and remained silent, pretending that he didn't know Yoruichi was only feigning to be asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

**OCTOBER 3 RD, 129 B.H.I., URAHARA RESIDENCE, 2ND DISCTRICT, NORTHWEST RUKONGAI**

 

"Is there an end to this in sight?"

 

"Aaaaalmost there…"

 

"You were _almost there_ seven minutes ago."

 

"I'm really, very close this time, promise."

 

Letting out a sigh, Yoruichi lay still, staring straight ahead.  "You know… when I said _Draw a sketch; it'll last longer,_ I wasn't being _literal_."

 

"But it was such a capital idea!"

 

"Capitally _stupid_ …" Yoruichi muttered.

 

Crouched down to remain on eye-level with Yoruichi in her cat form, Kisuke scuttled to the side, putting the finishing touches on her snout in isometric view.  Freehand sketches weren't really his forte, even though a certain amount of skill level was transferrable from technical drawing.  Still, compared to his first deplorable attempts many years ago, this was a veritable masterpiece.  Necessity was the mother of invention, after all; ever since revisiting some of his earlier journals, trying in vain to make sense of schematics that had been hastily sketched down in a semi-lucid state, he had decided that drawing was a skill he needed to refine.  

 

Kisuke brought one knee down to the floor of the deck, laid his journal out on his bent leg, then held out his charcoal-stained thumb before Yoruichi, horizontally aligning it with her collarbone.    

 

_Five point two, so about thirty eight from nose to tail base; three point four shoulder to floor so almost twenty five and a half…_

 

"You keep doing that thing with your thumb…"

 

"Mmmm, well, I have a feeling you won't stay put long enough for me to break out the measuring tape, so I have to eye-ball it," he said.  "Average thumb length for a male is approximately seven centimeters –mine's seven point three- so I'm using it as a measuring tool.  It's not _perfect_ , but I suppose it'll have to do…"

 

Unmoved by his subtle request, Yoruichi brought her ears down, bright yellow eyes rolling to the side to glare at him.  "What's the average middle finger length?"

 

"Eight point si—" _Oh._   Clearing his throat, Kisuke hurried to jot down the measurements, figuring she'd just about reached her limit.  "All done!" 

 

Yoruichi arched her back once, then stretched her slim feline body out, yawning.  " _Finally_ ," she said, jumping off the railing to land on his shoulder.  "Lemme see."  She looked down from her perch at the proffered journal page, tilting her head to the side.  "You've improved.  That actually _does_ look like a cat."

 

"Did I get the tail right?  I know you're very particular about the tail."

 

"Tail looks f— YOU SAID YOU WERE DONE."

 

Kisuke drew his thumb away from her head, tucking his hand behind his back.  "I am." _One point… two?  Should be about eight point ninety something… Eh, let's say nine._

 

Yoruichi jumped off his shoulder, making sure to dig her claws in deeply before doing so, then landed down on the deck almost soundlessly.  She made a very deliberate show of moving a good distance away from him, before lying down into a tightly wound ball of black fluff, her tail tucked under her chin.

 

"Awww, c'mon, don't be like that," Kisuke said, slipping a sheet of beeswax over the drawing before shutting his journal.  "It didn't take _that_ long."

 

"You said no experiments!"

 

"And I kept my promise," he said, setting the journal and charcoal aside, then took a seat on the deck.  "I'm only making observations.  That's allowed, isn't it?"

 

"Hmph."

 

"The strays aren't afraid of you anymore, by the way," Kisuke said, picking up the rag sitting beside him and wiping his fingers clean.  "They're still roaming around somewhere in the garden."

 

"Yeah, but I can tell they feel something's not quite right," Yoruichi said. 

 

"I keep telling you, it's your spiritual pressure," Kisuke said.  "They're probably used to sensing a greater amount from fellow cats and you're subconsciously suppressing yours."

 

"I know," Yoruichi said.  "Still working on that.  It's so _strange_ , trying to actively increase the output instead of the opposite."

 

Not willing to incur her wrath again, Kisuke mentally filed away all the information for the time being.  Committing it to paper could wait; he could add all additional notes later on tonight, when he would be inking the sketch. 

 

"Any developments on the shikai front?" he said.

 

"None.  Looks like you were right; I'm not getting anything more out of Maya."    

 

There were still vestiges of disappointment in her voice, even though she was starting to make her peace with the situation by now.  It wasn't difficult to sympathize with her; as powerful as the boost in her abilities was, the great disadvantage of her shikai was rapid depletion of her pool of energy.  It not only required a sizeable amount of spiritual pressure to activate, but also kept consuming energy in order to remain active.

 

Interestingly enough, in that one month since learning of her shikai release, Kisuke had observed during sparring that while her spiritual power had grown –however little- in its usual rate, the amount consumed by her release remained fixed. 

 

He had yet to share any of this with Yoruichi, wanting to make absolutely certain first, but if his suspicions turned out to be true, this could only mean one thing: at a certain point in the future, the deficit caused by the energy continuously consumed by her shikai would simply be neutralized by the amount she produced naturally.   When her pool of spiritual pressure reached its peak, or perhaps even sooner, she may very possibly be able to maintain constant shikai release, effectively gaining a permanent, massive boost in speed and strength.

 

It was both exhilarating and a little overwhelming to picture what the future Yoruichi might be capable of, should he turn out to be correct.  _And let's face it, I usually am._

 

With Yoruichi now a safe distance away from their food and water bowl, some of the strays made a re-appearance, timidly hopping up on the deck, their gazes locked on her at all times.  Yoruichi rolled her eyes at them, stretching out on the deck and closing her eyes, enjoying the sunny afternoon.

 

She didn't open them again, not until one of the braver little kittens –an orange tabby- climbed up to Kisuke's shoulder and stayed there, enjoying the occasional pet.  Kisuke could feel her staring, knew how oddly territorial she tended to get whenever the strays showed up, but he never made eye-contact with her, a smirk appearing on his lips.  "Jealous?"

 

"Of what?"

 

"If you want me to pet you, all you have to do is ask."

 

"Oh _please_ ," Yoruichi said.  "Like _you're_ not the one who has been begging _me_.  You know what?  I'll do it just so you can finally shut up about it."

 

_Wow._ _Touchy, touchy._

 

And without further ado, she got up and trotted over to him, lying down right by his left hand.  She assumed a highly dignified, sphinx-like position, as though she were about to bestow him with a great honor.

 

Grinning at her, Kisuke ran one long finger up her nose and over to the spot behind her ear, giving her a gentle scratch.  For the longest time, Yoruichi didn't move an inch, her muscles rigid under his touch, but eventually, she decided to give up the pretense and relaxed to his ministrations.  In fact, she relaxed a little too much, Kisuke soon discovered, when he felt her small body vibrate under the sweep of his palm.

 

His eyes flitted over to her just as hers shot open.

 

"Did you… did you just _purr_?"  

 

If her cat form was capable of blushing, Kisuke was certain she would be beet red by now.  Leaping up to her paws, Yoruichi dashed away, her tail slipping through his fingers as he made an effort to stop her. 

 

"Noooo, come back; that was so cute!" Kisuke said, giggling.

 

Yoruichi ran all the way to the other side of the deck where she sat, back hunched and tail tufted, her spiritual pressure furling and unfurling erratically.  Figuring she just needed her time to get over the embarrassment, Kisuke didn't go after her, nor did he make any more attempts at communication.  He simply watched her from time to time, tempted to make a number of notes on his journal, but knowing it would only serve to infuriate her. 

 

He did, however, pay particularly close attention when she stood up and made her way to one of the few potted plants he kept on the deck, sniffing it curiously.  In all honesty, when he saw her walk up to the mint-like little bush with the light purple flowers, he didn't expect anything to happen.

 

And then it did.

 

Jaw dropping, Kisuke pawed around the deck for his journal and flipped it open, waiting for the show to begin.

 

* * *

 

 

**DECEMBER 1 ST, 129 B.H.I., URAHARA RESIDENCE, 2ND DISCTRICT, NORTHWEST RUKONGAI**

 

Yoruichi observed the green little confection flipping into the air, mouth open as she positioned herself right at the end of its trajectory.  The soft, tea-flavored little cake landed into her mouth, and with a broad grin, she pushed the gate to Kisuke's home open with her hip, digging into the paper bag once more.  Trotting along the stone steps, she made her way to the front door and gave it a gentle rap, by now munching on her third manjū.

 

It wasn't until the five-minute mark that his absence piqued her interest; she had more than once woken Kisuke up with one of her visits, but it usually took him no longer than a couple of minutes to stumble downstairs or out of his lab and answer the door. 

 

Yoruichi pushed the door open and peeked into the living room.  The fire pit was lit, though the embers only barely glowed, and the leftovers of a meal sat atop the kotatsu.  Knowing Kisuke, that meal could have very well been the only sustenance he'd consumed for the past couple of days. 

 

Stepping inside, Yoruichi called for him.  "Kisuke?  Are you there?" she said.  "I brought food… sort of," she said, glancing down at the half-empty paper bag in her hands. 

 

She slipped her sandals off in the genkan and crossed the living room, dropping off the manjū at the table before walking toward the lab, whose door stood ajar.  The shōji leading out to the back garden were open and the room itself was completely empty, though a hint of Kisuke's spiritual signature lingered in the air.  Yoruichi was about to step out to the deck, when her eyes swept over the cluttered workbenches.  She did a double take; lying on the slab that Fleshy usually occupied was Kisuke, eyes closed, a drab grey sheet covering him up to his neck.

 

"Okay… this is weird even for _you_ ," Yoruichi said, shaking her head at him. 

 

She was half-way over to his side when she realized there wasn't a single speck of spiritual pressure emanating from the body on the slab, and yet she could feel him, lingering only a short distance away somewhere out in the back garden.  _What the…?_   Her steps a little warier than she cared to admit, Yoruichi approached the slab and slowly, hesitantly, poked the body's cheek with her index finger.  Though it behaved exactly like a real body would, the difference was immediately noticeable upon touch: this was a gigai.

 

_It's **finally** ready?_

 

In between classes, Kisuke had been tinkering with it for a little over than a year now, working through obstacle after obstacle, to the point that he had once seriously entertained the notion that perhaps there was a reason Fleshy had been trashed in the first place.  Just this past summer he had claimed to have made a serious breakthrough, and judging by what she was witnessing, he had managed to make the damn thing operable, at long last.

 

Despite her many digs at the malodorous little contraption, Yoruichi couldn't help but be impressed at the amazing likeness of her friend lying before her: Kisuke's hair had been perfectly replicated –a scientific feat all on its own- his nose, his eyelashes, even the stubble he sported on weekends.  Yoruichi pulled the sheet down to his pectorals and reached for his right arm.  Surely enough, the scar she had given him a few months ago was right there on his bicep.  It truly was a perfect copy of him, down to the barest details.

 

Her hand lingered on the sheet as she took in the length of the slab.  _A **perfect** copy?  A perfect… anatomical copy?  _ The fabric bunched into her tightened fist as Yoruichi bit down on her lower lip, her eyes flitting from the half open shōji to the gigai and back again.  Her fist twitched, arm itching to pull the sheet down _juuuuust_ —

 

"Yoruichi?"

 

She felt his presence approaching just a split second before she heard his voice, and hurried to restore the sheet to its previous position, then quickly folded her arms behind her back. 

 

Kisuke appeared through the shōji, looking slightly out of breath, a screwdriver in his hand.  The moment he laid eyes on her, his previously animated expression fell just the slightest bit.  "Hey."

 

Yoruichi narrowed her eyes at him.  "Nice to see you, too.  I won't _always_ be in cat form, you know," she said.  Kisuke grinned at her somewhat sheepishly.  "Were you running?"

 

"I was putting some finishing touches on Fleshy," he said, approaching the other side of the slab.  "When one of the cats ran in and stole my screwdriver.  Just managed to get it back." 

 

"It's ready, then?" she said, motioning toward the gigai.

 

"More or less," he said, the proud smile reaching his eyes.  "Tried it out this morning."

 

"No kidding," Yoruichi said.  "For a second there, I thought you'd finally achieved what you've been dancing around for decades and actually succumbed to malnutrition." Kisuke laughed.  "Why does it still look like you?" 

 

"Gigai are designed to hold the form of the most recent user.  You can reset it to default by tampering with a switch here," he said, reaching down underneath the gigai's nape. 

 

There was a soft _click,_ then the synthetic body slowly began to return to its original state before her eyes: the blonde hair shot back into the skull, the facial features turned waxy, the body began to shrink, and eventually, the artificial skin gave way to bare muscles, disappearing like a layer of liquid seeping into a porous surface.  Where Kisuke's replica had just been, now lay the familiar form of Fleshy.

    
"I suppose it wouldn't be difficult to reconfigure the core to reset to default every time a user exits the body," Kisuke said, absently scratching his temple with the flat edge of the screwdriver.  "But I assumed it was an intentional feature: if the Soul Reaper in question is meant to repeatedly use the gigai, it saves time to have it maintain the latest configuration."

 

He must have spotted the question in her eyes, because he went on to offer a more detailed explanation. 

 

"See, the biggest problem is that the base material is incapable of responding to mental signals fast enough," he said.  "I think I've made a few improvements, but the material has its limits, sadly.  It takes roughly eighteen minutes for a blank gigai to adopt a form upon first use, and about an hour for it to create the most essential neural pathways.  Well… at least that's how long it takes _this_ timeworn little gigai," he said, patting Fleshy's shoulder.  "Given its age, I'd say at peak efficiency the timeframes would be down to fifteen and forty five minutes respectively.  Still nowhere near what newer models are capable of, but it's not worth losing sleep over; there's simply no reversing the damage done by time and past usage.  But I digress..."

 

_Gee, ya **think**?_

 

"I've toyed with the idea of developing a memory, of sorts, that would be capable of storing a certain number of configurations."

 

Learning to home in on the essence of Kisuke's words while ignoring the rambling was a skill Yoruichi had painstakingly honed over the decades.  It wasn't that she didn't think his insights were worth listening to, but there was no use trying to untangle the more complex yarns he weaved when they would undoubtedly make little sense to a layman. 

 

This idea, however, was indeed something she could wrap her head around.  "Meaning that if a squadron had to share a single gigai, it would be able to cycle through their forms without delay?" she said.

 

As always, Kisuke looked both relieved and delighted she had managed to filter out the babble.  It would have been mildly insulting if it wasn't perfectly justifiable.  "Exactly!"    

 

"That's a great idea… Assuming it's feasible."

 

"I thought so, too.  Until I realized the potential for abuse."

 

Yoruichi mulled this over.  "Oh, you mean 'cause a pervert might steal a girl's gigai or something?" she said, a wry smirk on her lips.  _Potential for abuse, indeed._

 

Kisuke stared at her blankly for a moment, completely silent.  "Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of someone using a gigai to pose as an impostor."

 

 _Oh, you were **not**._  "Mmmmmm-hm."

 

"I was!"

 

" _Sure_ you were."

 

There was a hint of redness on his cheeks as he cleared his throat.  "So _anyway_ … Wanna try it?"

 

"Try it?  The gigai?"

 

"Yeah," Kisuke said, grinning.  "Learning to use a gigai is a prerequisite for graduation, which means we should be getting around to it at some point in this semester.  I thought you might appreciate a trial run.  Get a leg up on the competition." 

 

It should have irritated her, the fact that he was manipulating her deep-seated need to excel in order to test his precious gigai –and it _did._   Still, he wasn't wrong.  She _would_ welcome the chance to try it out first in the safety of a controlled environment.

 

"You won't be… poking me around with needles or anything, will you?" she said, eyes wandering over the various tools sitting on his workbenches.

 

"Nah, no needles.  Just a few conductors."

 

"Okay, first of all, _no_ ," Yoruichi said, holding out her index finger.  "Second, how many is a _few_ , and third… what's a conductor?"

 

"I promise it won't hurt," Kisuke said, then reached down to the chair by the slab, over which a plain robe had been draped.  He held it up before her, a challenging grin on his face.

 

Yoruichi glanced from the robe down to Fleshy, her jaw set.  "You'd better co-operate, Stinky," she muttered at the gigai, then took the robe off Kisuke's hands, bracing herself for the worst.

 

* * *

****

**JANUARY 16 TH, 128 B.H.I., THE QUAD, SPIRITUAL ARTS ACADEMY, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

Kisuke hurried down the steps leading outside the main Academy building, Benihime strapped behind his back.  It wasn't often that he got to appreciate the peaceful stillness of the Quad at this hour of the day, when post-lunch break classes were already under way.  Save for a few wandering professors and the occasional late arrival, the only other souls present were his classmates.

 

Upon arrival, he received a few perfunctory greetings from the group, most of whom immediately returned to quiet contemplation.  The rest were either far too lost in their own thoughts to acknowledge his presence, or were otherwise occupied by pacing back and forth the green grass fields.  Even Yoruichi gave him only a stiff smile in welcome, then leaned back against the trunk of a tree, Yoshida sitting by her side, equally silent.  

 

The atmosphere out in the quiet field was fraught, the silence pregnant with unspoken fears and raw memories of last year's excursion.  From what little they had been able to wrench out of their tight-lipped superiors, it appeared the Quincy situation was still a very real issue.  Kisuke couldn't help but bring to mind the healer who had tended to him back in Kyōto that day, and his prophetic words that their crop of graduates was going to have only the barest minimum experience in fieldwork.  This was only their second outing, and their first taste of what fighting a Hollow felt like.

 

Kisuke had to wonder whether his own prediction that gigai training would also take place today would come true.  Given how little time there was before the end of the semester, he wouldn't be surprised if the Academy chose to cram as many prerequisites as possible in a single lesson.   

 

Not wanting to disturb Yoruichi, Kisuke looked around the Quad for Harada.  Contrary to the rest of his classmates, Kisuke's own memories of the Kyōto mission paled in comparison to what had followed, yet the two separate events remained inextricably linked in his mind.  A distraction in the form of his classmate –and borderline friend- would be more than welcome, especially if Harada launched into one of his usual, never-ending political rants the left his fellow speaker with little responsibility other than the occasional nod.

 

Harada, however, seemed to be running a little late and was nowhere to be found in the Quad.  As the hour of departure grew near and Kisuke spotted a small delegation of Soul Reapers arriving to escort them, he turned toward Kojima Ryō, Harada's roommate, for answers.

 

"Isn't Harada coming today?" he said.

 

Kojima regarded Kisuke with a perplexed expression in his dark brown, almond-shaped eyes.  Peering down at him over the rim of his glasses, he said, "You didn't hear?"

 

"Hear what?"

 

"Harada dropped out," Kojima said.

 

" _WHAT_? _When_?"

 

His brief outburst drew the attention of their classmates, but Kisuke cared little for decorum right now, hoping Kojima could offer some sort of explanation for this startling piece of news.

 

"I'm guessing sometime last week," Kojima said.  "I didn't see him over the weekend and then on Monday they brought in a new roommate, told me Harada wasn't coming back."

 

Jaw slack, Kisuke paid no attention to the senior Soul Reapers requesting that their group assemble forward.  "He didn't...? Didn't he leave a note, or mention anything the days before?" he said, dropping his voice.

 

Kojima merely shook his head.

 

"But... Why would he drop out _now_?" Kisuke said.  "Why even register for this semester if he wasn't planning on finishing the year?"

 

"No idea."

 

"Maybe it was something personal?" Ueno Tsubasa said, as the Soul Reapers in charge went on to confirm that the lesson was indeed going to include gigai usage.  "A family emergency?"

 

"I… I guess that's possible," Kisuke said, though he knew perfectly well that wasn't the case. 

 

If there was one thing he and Harada had in common, it was their reluctance to reveal anything related to their respective families.  Kisuke couldn't be certain, but he had the distinct feeling that Harada's issues with his makeshift Rukongai family were far more sinister than his own.  It wasn't likely that the latter would consider dropping what promised to be a successful career to rush to the aid of people he seemed to have no attachment to whatsoever.

 

"Perhaps he realized he was a poor fit for the Academy."

 

Kisuke turned toward the source of the voice a little too sharply.  He wasn't surprised to see it was Miura Kiyoshi who had spoken, a person whose every other word was either a sycophantic appraisal of Yoshida, whom he worshipped, or a snide, spiteful little comment much like the one he'd just uttered.

 

**_"That one looks spineless and obsequious. I do not like him."_ **

 

 _You and me both, Benihime._ "Meaning?" Kisuke said, trying to keep his expression civil.

Miura's sneer disappeared upon being addressed so brusquely.  "Maybe the classes were too much for him, who knows?" he said.

 

It wasvery difficult to refrain from laughing at Miura's ridiculous claim.  Harada had consistently scored in the top five per cent, and had been the third in their class to achieve shikai release; a lack of talent was certainly not the reason for his abrupt departure. "Perhaps," Kisuke said, nodding.  "That level forty Bakudō last week was giving him trouble, as I recall.  Not the kind of performance one might expect from an advanced student.  You could be on to something, Miura."

 

Even though half their class had had difficulty pulling off the spell, no-one within earshot seemed to take offense at Kisuke's comment.  As he had hoped, it was perfectly clear to all present that Miura, who was still struggling with level thirty spells, was the intended target.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Kisuke could see that Miura was livid, but even if the latter's friend wasn't about to intervene, Kisuke knew that his impotent rage would've never amounted to anything more dramatic than a huff. 

 

"Does it matter?" Yoshida said.  "People do unpredictable things all the time."

 

 _No, actually, most people are tediously predictable.  The fact that we don't know their circumstances doesn't mean their actions make no sense._  

 

He couldn't really fault Yoshida for rushing to his friend's aid and trying to defuse the mounting tension, but something about Miura's first comment wasn't sitting well with Kisuke: the chosen words, the slight sneer, the instant backtracking the moment he had been challenged with more hostility than he had expected.  As much as he didn't wish to get involved in a fight with Yoshida, or any fight period, Kisuke had every intentions of getting some answers out of Miura one way or another, and was about to act on it, when he felt a quick, sharp jab from a familiar spiritual pressure nearby.

 

His eyes swept over to Yoruichi, who simply shook her head.  The expression on her face seemed to be saying: "Now is not the time."

 

Folding his arms before his chest, Kisuke gave her a brief nod, then shifted his attention toward the Soul Reapers outlining today's mission.  Straightforward though the instructions were, Kisuke was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate on their words with the commotion taking place in his head: in between the Soul Reapers' speech, the gnawing questions about Harada's sudden departure, his anger at Miura, and Benihime's explicit suggestions as to how he might get the latter talking, Kisuke was quickly developing a headache.

 

From what little he was able to pay attention to, he gathered that they would be visiting a small rural town outside of Edo where some minor Hollow activity had recently been reported.  Though Edo itself would have been a far more suitable location, Kisuke knew the Academy and the Thirteen Divisions were not willing to leave anything to chance this time around.  If there were any doubts as to how much emphasis had been placed on security for this second outing, one only had to look at the makeup of the squadron that would be escorting them today.

 

Ten seated officers entirely devoted to securing the perimeter, two field medics from Division Four including their third seat, Yamada Seinosuke, and no fewer than three Lieutenants to oversee the whole operation: Tsukioka Kazuo, the tall, wiry second hand to Captain Himura of Division Two; Matsuo Megumi, a stern brunette serving as Captain Ukitake's Lieutenant; and Sugimura Miharu, Lieutenant of the Sixth Division.  All three of them wore different colored armbands over their black uniforms.

 

As the case had been in their previous training exercise, even among similarly ranked Soul Reapers, it was Sugimura who appeared to be in charge and did most of the explaining.  "This concludes the primary briefing," she said.  "Form a single file line and come up to the front to receive a randomly assigned strip of paper.  The color of the strip corresponds to your team leader, so assemble before the respective Lieutenant for further instructions."

 

One by one, the students followed her orders, starting to form the three designated groups of five.  Kisuke unfolded his own strip of paper –blue- and set about to meet up with his team, which would be led by Matsuo Megumi of the Thirteenth.  He was pleasantly surprised to find Yoruichi already waiting by Matsuo's side.

 

The rarity of the situation wasn't lost on Yoruichi, either.  "We're on the same team?" she said as he approached, her eyebrows arching up.

 

Kisuke held up his strip of paper.  "So it seems," he said, grinning.  For almost two years now, they had nearly always been assigned to different teams, by virtue of nothing more than alphabetical order.  Though he was far from a stranger to what teaming up with Yoruichi was like, this was the first time they would be operating together on an official capacity, so to speak.  "Lieutenant Matsuo," Kisuke said, giving the brunette a curt bow.

 

Matsuo Megumi was slightly shorter than Yoruichi, but more powerfully built.  Even underneath her loose Soul Reaper robes, Kisuke could make out her broad shoulders.  She wore her long brown hair in a tight braid that reached half-way down her back, and everything about the way she held herself, from the neat haircut to the immaculate robes, spoke of a meticulously maintained appearance, of discipline.  Which was why he was surprised to spot the beginnings of what he assumed was a tattoo by her left collarbone.

 

The Lieutenant shifted her chestnut-colored eyes over to him, then back to the register in her hands.  "Name?"

 

"Urahara Kisuke."

 

Matsuo skimmed over the list, coming to a stop near the middle and placing a mark right next to his name.  "All right, three more to go," she said.

 

As they waited for the remainder of their team to assemble, Yoruichi took a few wary steps toward him, dropping her voice.  "You okay?" she said.  "About Harada?"

 

Kisuke shrugged, his forehead creasing.  "Yeah, I… I guess it was a little sudden," he said.  "I thought he might've… told someone.  I dunno, maybe— Huh."

 

"What?"

 

"Well, well, well… Would you look at that?  Looks like Miura got himself a blue strip," Kisuke said, pointing toward the direction of the sight that had brought his train of thought to an end.   

 

Yoruichi followed the trajectory of his gaze, then let out a sigh, dropping her voice even lower.  "Look, I'm not crazy about the snivelly whiner myself, but this really isn't the time.  I'll help you slip a laxative in his food or something later if you want."

 

"Yeaaaah, I know," Kisuke said, letting out a sigh of his own as Miura made his way over.

 

They were soon joined by Kojima and Kikuchi Yōko, at which point Lieutenant Matsuo slipped the list back into her pocket and turned to them.  "All right, guys, my name is Matsuo Megumi, for those of you who might've missed it during the first briefing," she said.  "I'll be guiding you through today's training exercise, which begins right now.  As you were told earlier, you have been issued temporary Hell Butterflies just for today.  Can I assume you have all been successful in casting a portal spell during class?" Matsuo said.

 

Her question was met with a round of nods. 

 

The Lieutenant's eyes swept over their group until landing upon Kikuchi.  "You there, Kikuchi, was it?" she said.

 

"Yes, ma'am."

 

"Come up to the front, please," Matsuo said. Kikuchi stepped forward, looking a little nervous.  "As Soul Reapers," Matsuo said, addressing the whole group.  "You will be issued a permanent Hell Butterfly.  To summon them, all that is required is a simple whistling call.  For the purpose of opening a Senkai gate, however, the summoning happens automatically.  When practicing the portal spell in class, what you did not see is that a second pair of doors is meant to open, releasing the Hell Butterflies that will guide you through to the other side.  As Academy students you wouldn't normally be able to do this, but today it should work.  Give it a try, Kikuchi.  Our destination is Karakura Town," she said.

 

Kikuchi held out her Soul Cutter before her, eyes narrowing in concentration.  The blade of her katana glowed red and when she brought it forward, it seemed to disappear through a small mid-air ripple.  Kikuchi twisted her wrist, creating a warp in the air.  "Open!"  Like a creature shedding its camouflage and becoming visible to the world again, the warp shifted, until its surface came to mirror a shōji.  The doors split open, and just as Matsuo had described, a second pair of round shōji beyond them parted as well, releasing six Hell Butterflies.

 

Even without being told, Kisuke instantly knew which one was his and he followed it with his eyes as it soared over to him and came to rest upon his shoulder.  It was said that a message relayed via Hell Butterfly could only ever be understood by its recipient, as the bond shared between a Soul Reaper and their own Hell Butterfly was the only means to translate their cry to comprehensible language.  Seeing the creatures up close, it was hard to believe how something so delicate and beautiful was capable of producing such a haunting, shrill sound.

 

"Excellent work," Matsuo told Kikuchi as her own Hell Butterfly landed on her shoulder.  "Let's move out, everyone."

 

Traveling through an official dimensional portal wasn't nearly as exciting as going through the Dangai had been.  Apparently, the process of registering even temporary Hell Butterflies was more complicated than the process of containing the Wresting Flow of the Dangai, but neither the Academy nor the Divisions could afford another security nightmare.  It was a little disconcerting to think how different the Kyōto mission might've been if the students had been able to open a Senkai gate of their own upon the first sign of trouble.  Kisuke wouldn't be surprised if the temporary registration of Hell Butterflies had now become protocol for all Academy missions to the Material World.

 

The trip to Karakura Town was instantaneous.  The group had barely taken a couple of steps in through the Senkai gate, before their sandals hit muddy earth, and they were transported to an open field, rain pelting down upon them mercilessly.

 

 _Oh, great,_ Kisuke thought, grimacing at the dark sky above.  With no moon or stars visible, their training exercise had just become a touch more complicated.  _At least the thunder adds to the ambiance._

 

"Yes, yes, I know," Lieutenant Matsuo said to the groaning group.  "But it had to be today.  There's a thunderstorm coming in a few hours and the town has been temporarily evacuated, which makes this a perfect opportunity for gigai practice.  Let's get going."

 

Matsuo led their group across the farmland and toward the large shadows in the distance.  The lack of visibility made it impossible to tell where they were headed.  All Kisuke could make out were his immediate surroundings, and he was infinitely relieved when his feet touched more solid ground; it seemed they had reached the road leading to Karakura Town.  Matsuo called at their group to pick up the pace, and the six of them jogged along the dirt road and the long line of fences separating the numerous fields in the outskirts of the town.  By the time they reached another black-clad figure, they were all soaked to the bone.  The Soul Reaper pointed toward their right, where a large kidō barrier had been conjured up to serve as a shed. 

 

Out of the twelve Soul Reapers that had headed off to Karakura ahead of the students, only two of them, the medics, were stationed under the shed.  The rest were likely already in position along the perimeter to keep guard, Kisuke thought.  The two medics had set up a small station comprising mostly the blank gigai the students were meant to be using today, as well as a small assortment of first aid equipment.  The gigai were already been dressed in Academy uniforms, and lay supine in a row on the ground, atop fifteen individual mats.

 

Once under the shelter of the shed, Matsuo flicked her wet hair off her forehead and headed straight for the medics, while her team tried to wring themselves out as best they could.

 

Kisuke ran both hands through his hair, shaking the water off with a groan.

 

Next to him, Yoruichi gave him a withering stare.  "Yes, please tell me how hard _you_ have it right now," she said.  Her ponytail had slipped down to her nape, her long, dripping hair reaching all the way down to the small of her back.

 

In response, Kisuke smirked at her, pulling his hands out of his hair.  He saw the look of alarm in Yoruichi's eyes just a split second before he did it, but she didn't have time to react when he shook his soaked hair right in front of her face.  She let out a small yelp in indignation and covered her eyes, seemingly torn between anger and amusement as he pulled away with a chuckle and pushed his hair off his forehead.  "See?  Pretty hard," he said.

 

He should've seen the retaliation coming; with a smirk of her own, Yoruichi tossed her ponytail over her shoulder and whirled around, her hair smacking him right across the cheek in a wet slap that made stars erupt before his eyes.  When back in possession of his full bearings, Kisuke touched his throbbing jaw tentatively.  "Touché," he said, eyes flitting over to Yoruichi's satisfied smirk as she laid her hair over her shoulder and wrung it out thoroughly.

 

Matsuo returned shortly after, informing them that the perimeter was already secure and seeing as they were the first group to arrive, they could start getting attuned to their gigai.  Kisuke was itching to get a conversation going with the medics about the upgraded models, but he knew that any question he really wanted answered would only raise suspicion as to how exactly an Academy student was so well versed in even basic gigai technology.  As such, he resigned himself to sitting patiently through detailed instructions he was already familiar with.

 

By the time the short lecture was over, the other two teams were beginning to arrive.  Kisuke and his classmates were led over to their respective gigai and took their seats upon the mats, trying to physically align themselves with the gigai.  Kisuke felt his spiritual essence being drawn to position by the synthetic body, and as soon as he achieved perfect alignment, there was the tell-tale ripple passing through him, locking him inside.

 

The first few moments spent inside a previously blank gigai were always somewhat distressing.  Unable to hear, see, speak or move, one could do nothing but wait for the gigai to start attuning to their true body.  First came sight, then hearing, then speech, all within the span of two short minutes.  Fleshy, being an older model, was only able to complete this process at the five minute mark.  Despite the shorter timeframe, however, Kisuke was a little disappointed to see that the sense activation algorithm was executed in the same order as it had been in past models. 

 

In his opinion, the sequence was far more based on psychological, rather than practical reasons.  Restoring sight first served no purpose other than to give the user some sense of peace, something that could just as easily be achieved by restoring hearing first, a far swifter and more useful sense in the beginning stages.  His own sequence of hearing, speech, _then_ sight when configuring Fleshy made a lot more sense to him, and it had received positive feedback from Yoruichi as well. 

 

It was a pattern he had come across many times over when originally examining Fleshy and mapping out his functions: gigai were vastly detailed, nearly perfect anatomical models of the human body, capable of fine, precise movements, but they were not efficient machines, at least not as efficient as they _could_ be.  Gigai technology would surely benefit from the added knowledge of specialists who weren't primarily physicians, specialists who had a better understanding of machinery.  Even slight modifications, such as the addition of a more powerful core, could potentially streamline the attunement.  It would allow the synthetic body to perform more than one non-overlapping system attunement at a time, shrinking the entire process down to 25% of what it currently was, perhaps even less, all without the need for more responsive material.  At least it should, theoretically; a more powerful core was far outside his own budget to test.

 

As inefficient as the new gigai were, however, they were still leaps and bounds beyond Fleshy.  Within seven minutes, they had already assumed the forms of their users.  Movement adaptation was far more complicated and required the user actually act out stretches, lunges and other movements engaging numerous muscles at a time, starting out with the larger muscle groups and moving to the smaller ones.  Still, even that long process which took nearly an hour with Fleshy was complete in almost twenty five minutes with the new models.

 

"Good grief, that's a drag," Kikuchi said as she twisted her wrist up and down.  "Do we really have to go through this _every_ time we have to use a gigai?"

 

"If this were a real mission, where you would presumably reuse the same gigai, no," Matsuo said.  "This only has to be done once, then the gigai maintains both your form and movement configuration until it's reset.  It's a slow process, I know, but the older models were even slower.  This is a vast improvement, trust me."     

 

Yoruichi caught Kisuke's eye and they immediately looked away, trying to hide near-identical grins.  She turned her gaze toward Kojima, who was eyeing the fingers in his right hand with a mixture of confusion and impatience as they continued to move rigidly. 

 

Yoruichi glanced over toward the two medics, who were both busy helping Miura relieve the stiffness in the gigai's joints.  "Try clenching your fist and then pinching," she told Kojima, dropping her voice so Matsuo wouldn't overhear.  "Thumb to each finger and press down hard.  It'll engage all the necessary muscles at once."

 

Kojima gave Yoruichi a questioning stare, but followed her advice all the same, his expression brightening at once.  "Oh wow, this _does_ feel better," he said, wiggling his fingers about.  "Thanks, Yoruichi."

 

"No problem," she said.

 

Kisuke arched an eyebrow at her, his lips twitching upward.  "Look at you, doling out advice like a veteran," he said.

 

Yoruichi shrugged, returning the grin.  "Sometimes you have good ideas."

 

" _Some_ tim—?"

 

 "It looks like everyone is ready to go," Matsuo said, giving them all the one-over.  "Remember that while gigai do allow you to use your full range of spiritual powers, they have their limits.  You will not be able to jump as high, nor cast as strong a spell as you normally would, so please do not overestimate your own abilities.  Whatever you're normally capable of will only be about seventy five per cent as effective for this exercise.  Understood?"

 

A round of _Yes ma'ams_ followed Matsuo's question.

 

"Good.  The town has been outfitted with artificial light for your convenience.  The lights are color-coded per group –which means yours will be blue- to section off the town in three parts.  You are only allowed to operate within your designated area.  If a Hollow escapes your jurisdiction, abandon pursuit immediately and let the senior Soul Reapers deal with it.  Head over to the eastern part of town," Matsuo said.  "A blue flag will be stationed there to mark your position.  I will be drawing a Hollow over to your location in approximately ten minutes.  You have until then to scout the area and form your strategy."

 

And with those words, Matsuo set off, disappearing in a Flash.  Wasting no time, Kisuke, Yoruichi and their three classmates stepped out from under the shed and followed the dirt road toward the empty town.  On the first sight of civilization, Yoruichi pointed ahead toward the first visible building, a moderately tall structure that looked like a convenience store.  The group followed Yoruichi's lead as she leapt on top of the roof and sped on ahead, moving toward their designated location.

 

From an eagle's eye point of view, Kisuke was able to start mapping out the layout of the town in his head, at least as much as the low visibility allowed.  Karakura was quite small, highly reminiscent of the more affluent areas of Rukongai.  The buildings were made entirely out of wood and occasionally metal for drainage, the roads were unpaved, but there was still a semblance of infrastructure, no matter how simple.  True to what Matsuo had told them, the Soul Reapers had installed a number of floating spheres across the town to make up for the lack of moonlight.  In the distance, Kisuke could only barely make out similar red and yellow spheres of light for the other two teams.  It was far from perfect conditions, but better than the alternative, though Kisuke had no doubt Yoruichi had no need for them; near perfect vision even at night was one of the more enviable perks of her unique Soul Cutter, though he knew she couldn't keep her shikai release active for too long just yet.

 

"There it is," Yoruichi said, pointing straight ahead.

 

 _Case in point_.  Kisuke couldn't make out the flag, and judging by the looks shared between the rest of his classmates, neither could they.     

 

The blue flag had been secured upon the rooftop of the Town Hall, overlooking a small square.  _Not an ideal location,_ Kisuke thought, as they all came to a stop and formed a semicircle around the flag.  The open area would not only give a large creature like a Hollow the freedom to move about with ease, but the presence of so many human-made constructs also increased the possibility that half of them would be demolished by the time the fight was over.  There had been nothing in their briefing covering damage to human property, but Kisuke was certain it could only count against their overall score.

 

He was about to share his thoughts with the group, when he saw that all four of them were already staring at him expectantly.  "Oh, me?" he said.

 

"I trust there are no objections?" Yoruichi said, her eyes moving over the group.

 

All three of his classmates shook their heads, even Miura.

 

"All right then," Kisuke said, giving a snap of his fingers above his head.  A slim, simple yellow barrier appeared, expanding into a circle wide enough to temporarily shield them all from the rain.  "Yoruichi, I need you to scout the area as quickly as you can, look for—"

 

"A dead-end?" she said.

 

"Yes, or anything close enough; we'll need tight quarters, and as few structures around as possible."

 

"On it," Yoruichi said, speeding away in the blink of an eye.

 

"Won't it get too crowded with the Hollow and all five of us?" Kikuchi said.

 

"There will only be one designated slayer," Kisuke said.  "The rest of us are going to make sure the Hollow stays on target and doesn't stray from our chosen path.  If we keep the process clean and methodical, we might get an additional shot at a Hollow, in which case we can switch up roles.  Sound good?"  When there were no objections, he went on outlining his plan. 

 

"One of us will be the target, stationed here until Matsuo arrives with the Hollow.  Land a quick blow, preferably with Kidō or any ranged attack, to get the Hollow to turn on you and abandon pursuit of Matsuo.  Next, two of us will be stationed along the way.  If the Hollow tries to leave the path or go for a shortcut or anything of the sort, barricade the way and try to keep any human structure intact.  It might be a good idea to cast an illusion spell and mask any intersections as a wall, instead.  At the end of the road, one of us is going to trap the Hollow with a Bakudō and then the slayer swoops in to land the killing blow."

 

As they discussed potential spells that could be used in defense, or as a means to block the Hollow's path or attract its attention, Yoruichi returned from her scouting trip, hurrying over to them and under the shelter of the spell.

 

"There's a small park at the end of a road that is basically a dead-end," Yoruichi said.  "It's a little bigger than what we need, but on the plus side, any damage to trees and the like could be attributed to the coming storm.  There is one other option, arguably better, but it's a back yard; we run the risk of the house getting badly damaged.  Your call."

 

Kisuke mulled this over, two fingers tapping against his temple as he weighed the pros and cons of each scenario.  "How big is the park?" he asked Yoruichi.

 

"Really small, almost like a personal garden," she said.  "About forty square meters."

 

"No structures?"

 

"Just a tiny bridge going over a pond, the rest is all shrubbery and trees."

 

"And the back yard?"

 

"Faces a two-story house," Yoruichi said.  "It's a much tighter fit, better for us, but one swing of that Hollow's arm…"

 

"And it's bye-bye house," Kisuke said, nodding.  "Okay, we're going with the park."

 

Yoruichi knelt down, her index finger glowing with white energy.  "There are three intersections along the way," she said, and began to draw a rudimentary map of the road outlines, marking down the destination and three intersections.

 

Kisuke studied the map as quickly as he could, knowing they were pressed for time.  "Okay, I nominate myself to cast the final Bakudō, any objections?" he said.  There were none.  "Good, so I'll take that first intersection here," he said, pointing at the respective point on the map.  "And once the Hollow is past that point, I'll head over to the park.  I'll leave you to decide amongst yourselves who wants to do the slaying and who wants to be on barrier duty."

 

"I think we'd better play it safe, at least for the first go," Kojima said, taking off his rain-splattered glasses.  "I'd be no good.  I assume you have no issues with visibility?" he said, turning to Yoruichi.

 

She shook her head.

 

"Then I guess that leaves Miura as bait," Kisuke said.

 

" _What_?  Why _me_?" Miura said, his face becoming a good three shades paler at the suggestion.

 

 _Because you're an idiot who lucked his way into an advanced class and I wouldn't trust you to tell the difference between a Hadō and a Bakudō, let alone allow you to cast one.  Plus, it'll be fun to watch you sweat._ "With Yoruichi and myself otherwise occupied, you're the fastest one in our team," Kisuke said. 

 

"But… I…"

 

"Kojima?  Kikuchi?  Are you all right with being on Bakudō duty?" Kisuke said.  Both of them nodded in agreement.  "Excellent.  Everyone, keep your spiritual pressure dialed down so the Hollow focuses on Miura," –the latter let out a half-hearted groan in protest- "I take the first intersection, Kojima takes the second and Kikuchi takes the third one.  Please fill Yoruichi in on the entire plan on the way there.  I'll see you at the park," he said, addressing Yoruichi at the end.

 

Yoruichi gave him a nod, then turned to Miura.  "Remember, it's three rights then a left: right from the square, past the first intersection, right again, straight down past the second intersection, right on the third one, then left, and you're there."

 

Miura gave her a weak nod, mouthing the sequence over and over to commit it to memory.

 

"Miura, head down to the square below and wait for Matsuo.  Stay sharp, everyone; let's do this," Kisuke said.

 

Yoruichi, along with Kojima and Kikuchi took the right path along the rooftops, heading over to their respective positions.  Miura jumped down into the square, looking skittish as he drew out his weapon, eyes flitting along the square for any sign of Matsuo and the Hollow. 

 

Kisuke headed for the first intersection, scoping out the area from above.  The first possible alternate route for the Hollow was a narrow street right next to a noodle shop.  The entire square appeared to be a small marketplace, of sorts, so when casting the illusion spell, Kisuke chose to go with something resembling a generic shop as well, effectively masking the intersection. 

 

Crouching down upon the roof overlooking the noodle shop and the masked intersection, Kisuke suppressed his spiritual pressure and waited.  It was near the three minute mark that he heard it, the shrill cry of a Hollow piercing the night air.  _Here we go,_ he said, shielding his eyes with one palm and trying to make out what was happening in the distance.  Was this Matsuo, or one of the other Lieutenants guiding in the kill for their team? 

 

As the two distinct spiritual signatures grew closer, Kisuke was able to recognize one of them as Matsuo's.  The other one was so foreign, so diametrically opposed to a Plus's spiritual makeup, that it could only be a Hollow, indeed.  He knew by now what a Quincy's spiritual essence felt like: close enough to human but still noticeably different.  There was nothing even remotely comparable to a human's essence in a Hollow.  If anything, the spiritual essence was far closer to that of an animal of the spirit world, as though someone had physically reached into a soul's spiritual flow and had removed bits and pieces until the result was no longer recognizable in any conceivable way.  Soul Society's claims that a Hollowified human was past the point of redemption or recovery were fully justified, after all.

 

Kisuke watched as Matsuo's form appeared in the distance, closely followed by the Hollow.  She seemed to have spotted Miura, as she instantly jumped up to the roof of the Town Hall and concealed her spiritual pressure, giving Miura the opening to engage the Hollow. 

 

The beast was larger than what Kisuke had expected, but its physiology presented all the markers outlined in textbooks: bestial features, a gaping hole where the human's Chain of Fate had once been, and most importantly, the mask.  This particular specimen had the appearance of giant, anthropomorphic serpent, almost like a cross between a merman and a reptile.  The scales covering its entire body, from humanoid chest down to long tail, were dark in color – _Quite possibly green?  There's too little light to know for sure_.  Along the ridge of its tail was a row of iridescent green fin-like protrusions ending in long, sharp spikes.  They continued all the way up to its spine, ending at the back of the head, and were also present along the back ridge of its muscular arms.  Its face was covered with the tell-tale white mask, whose shape was reminiscent of a highly recognizable species of snake he had seen in illustrations many times over: a cobra's head.

 

It was more than a little tempting to abandon his position and get close enough for a better look, but Kisuke stayed put as the Hollow descended to the square to pursue Miura.  For a split second, Kisuke regretted not taking Miura's place and acting as the bait: instead of balancing upon its tail as it had been when seizing up its new opponent, the Hollow dropped down to its chest, arms pinioned behind its back, and slithered forward with immense speed, giving chase. 

 

There was no point in wondering if perhaps Yoruichi should've taken Miura's place; there was no-one else in their team with the required dexterity and flexibility to land a killing blow on the back of the creature's head while evading all those lethal-looking spikes.  There was also no point in worrying over Miura's speed right now, as it was already too late to switch positions.  Thankfully, Miura had the foresight to employ Flash Steps in order to maintain his distance as he made his way out of the square and into the streets. 

 

Kisuke watched, breath held in, as Miura and the Hollow sped past the street below him.  As he'd expected, the Hollow paid no mind to its surroundings and never recognized the masked intersection for what it truly was, staying on course.  Hoping Kojima and Kikuchi had enough spells in their bag of tricks to keep the way clear when the Hollow would undoubtedly grow bored and frustrated, Kisuke set off, heading for the park.  He could feel Matsuo following him, keeping a respectful distance to give them the space to operate, while she could still observe and intervene if need be.

 

He sped along the rooftops, one ear trained at Miura's location, the Hollow's cries echoing through the walls of the otherwise silent town.  From afar, he could also make out similar shrieks from the opponents the other two teams were currently engaging.   

 

He found Yoruichi stationed along the wall overlooking the park, gazing toward the direction of the oncoming Hollow.  Kisuke landed right next to her, dropping down on his knees.

 

"Hey," she said.  "Everything according to plan?"

 

"Alright so far at the first marker, but I can't make out anything in this damn rain," Kisuke said, pushing his dripping fringe off his forehead.  "Can you—?"

 

"Clear on the second one, too," Yoruichi said, squinting at the distance.  "Coming up on Yōko now."

 

Surely enough, Kisuke was just then able to make out Miura speeding down the road, the Hollow hot on his heels, slithering through the muddy puddles with ease.  He could see Kikuchi balanced on the wall above the third intersection, arms poised to cast a spell should the need arise.  _Here it comes…_

 

It was then that a fourth scream pierced the air, one that clearly did not belong to a Hollow.  Kisuke and Yoruichi both turned in unison to look over their shoulders, toward the direction of the very loud, very _human_ cry; a child's, by the sound of it.  Unfortunately, they weren't the only ones who took notice.  Just as Miura made the final right turn past the third intersection, the Hollow decided to abandon pursuing him and sped up, crashing straight through the illusion spell Kikuchi had cast to mask the path.

 

"It's going after the kid," Kisuke said, not pausing to wonder over the presence of a human in a town that was supposed to have been fully evacuated.  There was no doubt the voice belonged to a human, indeed, and right now, it mattered little whether that had been an oversight or a deliberate part of their training exercise.

 

Already hurrying along the walls of the city, Yoruichi right beside him, Kisuke tried to keep a visual of the Hollow at all times.  "It's fast," he said.  "Do you think you can still—?"

 

"It'll be tricky, but yes," Yoruichi said.  "You don't have time to cast a Bakudō—"

 

"I'll skip the incantation," Kisuke said.  "And go for a post-cast one.  Wait for it and then make your move."

 

"Okay, but it has to be _now_ ; we're coming up on the dead-end."

 

"Got it," Kisuke said. 

 

He pushed himself to travel as far as he could in a single Flash Step, landing along the wall a few meters ahead of the Hollow.  Down below, he could make out the two-story house Yoruichi had mentioned earlier on, at the end of the road.  The child's screams were still echoing in the air, but he was nowhere to be seen, nor was there any other intersecting road he could be coming from.  In all likelihood, he was somewhere beyond the wall, over by the red team's jurisdiction, which meant that technically, they were not allowed to intervene.

 

 _One problem at a time,_ he thought, turning toward the Hollow.  Whether the Senior Soul Reapers took care of the developing situation or not, right now, the more pressing matter was to keep their own target from joining in on the chase.  Extending his right arm forward, Kisuke aimed straight for the beast.  "Bakudō number sixty one, Rikujōkōrō!"

 

Six bright, yellow rods of light descended from the sky, slamming straight into the Hollow's midsection and bringing it to a screeching halt.  The muscles on the creature's arms bulged as it struggled to break free of the spell.  Left unattended, it would soon succeed, but Kisuke was already chanting the incantation to strengthen the spell.  "Carriage of Thunder. Bridge of a spinning wheel. With light, divide this into six!" 

 

As soon as he spoke the very last word, he saw her, the white blur, diving off the wall and heading straight for the trapped Hollow.  Yoruichi raised her tantō, bringing it cleanly down the back of the creature's mask.  The Hollow's scream was of pain was a chilling, horrifying thing, a swan song that seemed to seep into Kisuke's body down to the very core, rattling his bones as it reverberated throughout him, making his hair stand on end.  The beast's form began to lose its structure, and it began to dissolve in a shower of bright blue particles, ascending toward the sky, almost indistinguishable from the rain.

 

When it had disappeared completely, Kisuke was able to make out Yoruichi once more, standing in the middle of the road, panting.  Her right sleeve had been torn apart and she was holding one arm with her free hand, blood trickling onto the remnants of her sleeve.  She looked up at him, grinning broadly.  It appeared that aside from that one scrape, she was unharmed.  Kisuke returned the grin, giving her a slow clap from up above, to which she laughed and went into a comically ostentatious curtsy.

 

**_"Hmph.  You always let_ her _have all the fun."_**

There was more than a hint of disdain in that stressed word.  _I thought you liked Yoruichi._

**_"I do not mind her.  I would, however, prefer you had not allowed her to steal_ our _kill."_**

****

_We'll get our turn._

**_"I should hope so.  She shouldn't be getting another shot in that condition."_ **

_It'll take a lot more than that to bring her down,_ Kisuke said to Benihime.  _Though I confess, I'm a little perplexed as to how she even got hurt in the first place.  She's far too fast to—_

 

He felt the ground shake before he heard the crash, and Kisuke had to hold on to the rim of the wall to keep from losing his balance as a section on the other side, the yellow team's side, collapsed.  Out of the settling debris, a hulking, bull-like Hollow emerged looking both ways down the street frantically.

 

_You were saying?_

 

Kisuke's eyes sought Yoruichi; weapon still in her hand, she seemed to be torn between going for the Hollow that had crashed through to the back yard, or heading for higher ground.  Two things happened then at once.  There was another crash, this time from the red team's jurisdiction, and Kisuke saw Lieutenant Matsuo coming to land right beside him.  The second collapse in the wall revealed another Hollow, and if it wasn't distressing enough to see Yoruichi now right smack in the middle of enemies from both sides of the road, Kisuke saw that there was something trapped in the second Hollow's pincer-like claw: a little boy.  The human child they had heard just minutes ago.

 

"You got this?" Matsuo said, her hand hovering over the handle of her weapon as she gave him an odd, expectant look. 

 

Kisuke was more than a little taken aback.  When she had reached for her katana, he had assumed she was going to ask him not to interfere.  "Sure… why not?" he said with a wince, sprinting forward along the wall, about to shout instructions to Yoruichi.

 

In a positive turn of events, he watched to his elation as Kikuchi emerged behind the collapsed wall, firing off a beam of energy straight for the second Hollow's pincer.  It wasn't quite strong enough to cut through, but it did elicit a cry of pain out of the creature and forced it to loosen its grip on the child.  Yoruichi didn't need to be told what to do; the moment the Hollow's pincer slackened, she was already there, landing a deep stab with her own weapon and extricating the unconscious boy from its grasp.

 

"STAY ON THE STREET!" Kisuke called at her as he ran forward, loud enough to be heard over the din of the rain.  "RUN TO ME!  KIKUCHI, BE ON GUARD AND STAY ON THE WALL!"

 

If Yoruichi was at all confused by his orders she didn't show it, nor did she question them.  Jumping off the Hollow's arm, she slung the child over her shoulder and dashed down across the street.  The Hollow gave chase, and from the other side of the road, Kisuke saw that the bull-like Hollow was also rearing for an attack, scuffing the ground with its hoof before rushing forward.  Just as he'd thought, the child's powerful reserves of spiritual power had drawn the attention of all three Hollows; as long as he was an option, they would focus on no-one else.

 

Kisuke could feel Matsuo sprinting right beside him, probably watching him closely, waiting for the first signs of a mistake that would force her to intervene.

 

"Is anyone else in the vicinity on the streets?" Kisuke asked her.

 

"Err… No, I don't see—"

 

"ON MY COUNT," Kisuke called at Yoruichi as she approached.  "JUMP OFF THE STREET.  THREE, TWO—" Both Hollows were now closing in on her.  On the wall above, Kikuchi was sprinting down toward him, her eyes focused on the street.  "ONE!"

 

Yoruichi leapt off the street and onto the wall, just as Kisuke jumped across the road and onto the roof of a house on the other side.  He landed in a roll, then immediately flattened himself down upon the shingles, one hand grasping the drainage pipe that led all the way down the street.  "Hadō number eleven, Tsuzuri Raiden!"  

 

Tendrils of yellow electricity crackled out of his hand, travelling down the drainpipe instantaneously.  Lightning hit the earth, and the pool of water gathered on the street erupted with a loud hiss, trapping both Hollows and rooting them to the ground.  The two beasts shook violently as lightning encased their bodies, rendering them completely immobile, unable to even scream.

 

Kisuke unsheathed Benihime, coming up on his knees. "NOW, KIKUCHI!" 

 

Jumping off the roof, he sped down toward the bull-like Hollow as the last few tendrils of the spell fizzled off its hard skin.  The blue light of the floating spheres glistened off the dark blade of Benihime when he brought her down, hot and pulsating under his grasp as she cleaved the Hollow's mask in two. 

 

Panting, Kisuke stood up on the rain-pelted street, slipping Benihime back into her sheath.  As his body still vibrated with adrenaline, the Hollow disintegrated before his eyes, and he felt the essence of the third beast crumble nearby as well.  He turned to see Kikuchi's expression of glee mirroring the one on his lips.

 

**_"Now you are a_ true _Soul Reaper."_**

 

With a splash of water, Yoruichi landed down beside him.

 

"Where's the kid?" Kisuke asked her, seeing her embrace was now empty.

 

"Lieutenant Matsuo took him," Yoruichi said.  "Said we should go wait by the station outside the city."

 

"Three out of three!" Kikuchi said as she approached them, weapon held aloft.  "Go team!"

 

"Ladies," Kisuke said, holding both hands up.  Kikuchi high-fived him without a moment's hesitation, laughing.  Yoruichi rolled her eyes at him, a _too-cool-for-high-fiving_ expression written all over her face, but she met his hand all the same, smirking.  "Let's go find Kojima and Miura so we can brag."

 

He wasn't even aware of how cold he'd been until he was out of the gigai and wrapped in a blanket under the shelter of the medical station, a fire blazing right before him.  Next to him, the members of his team save Yoruichi were similarly ensconced in thick blankets, Kikuchi complaining that she could barely feel her feet.  Yoruichi was seated at the end of the station, where one of the medics was tending to the wound on her arm; apparently, the Hollow's spikes had cut deep enough to pierce through the gigai's flesh end injure her as well.

 

As Kisuke stretched his feet out by the fire, he saw Lieutenant Matsuo approaching from the direction of the town, heading straight for the station.

 

"I'll go find out what happened with the other two teams," Kisuke said, getting up.  It had been a long fifteen minutes to spend without any news as to what exactly had transpired earlier on, and the two medics had been just as much in the dark about it as they were.

 

Matsuo stepped under the shed, wiping the water off her face, as the second medic hurried to bring a blanket for her.  "Thank you, Seinosuke," she told him, throwing it over her shoulders and drying the top of her wet head.

 

"Lieutenant," Kisuke said, stepping up to her.

 

"Urahara," she said, nodding at him.  "You guys all okay?"

 

"Yes, Lady Yoruichi only got a scrape; it's being tended to," he said, motioning toward Yoruichi.  "Shouldn't we be getting back to the town?  The training exercise is not over."

 

"It is for your team," she said.  Upon the first signs of protest on his expression, she hurried to elaborate.  "Not because of anything you did wrong, I assure you," she said.  "The only reason we kept the other two teams going is that there's still time before the storm hits, and we're not getting another chance at this.  They need the experience."

 

"What about the boy?"

 

At the sound of that, Matsuo let out a sigh.  "The boy was not supposed to be there," she said, her brow creasing.  "He must've been accidentally left behind during evacuation, and someone missed him during the sweep.  That someone's probably looking at a demotion, and rightly so.  I swear, your class is going to be the bane of our existence until you graduate… Not that any of it is your fault.  But memory modification spells are complicated, and we had enough trouble with them last year.  One of the students apparently thought it was a good idea to light a bonfire normally reserved for the O-Bon festival on _February_."

 

"You… you don't say," Kisuke said, trying to appear sympathetic.  _Oops._

 

"We performed _seven hundred and sixty two_ memory modification spells that day, the Captain-Commander was apoplectic.  Anyway… The kid's memories have been successfully altered," Matsuo said, though she didn't look entirely confident with that statement.  "And since it was our fault the Hollows got sidetracked and not yours, we figured it wasn't fair to punish your class by withdrawing early, not when this was a good opportunity for training."

 

"I see."

 

Matsuo looked up at him as she tightened the blanket around her shoulders, a peculiar, appraising expression in her eyes.  "Good work out there today," she said.  "Not the kind of reflexes or casting level one expects from a second year."

 

"I— Thank you."

 

"How are you doing with your credit requirements?  Graduating any time soon?"

 

"This April.  Assuming I don't fail a class," Kisuke said.

 

"Hmmm.  Good to know," Matsuo said, then turned to address the whole group.  "You guys are done for tonight.  Just sit tight and wait for the other two teams. Get some rest, you all earned it; you did a great job."

 

Kisuke's eyes stayed on Matsuo as she ambled over to the two medics, probably filling them in on the situation, her words still ringing in his ears.  It was a heady thing, being praised by a Lieutenant of the Thirteen Divisions, and unless he was very much mistaken, that brief interrogation at the end concerning his graduation was a rather blatant sign that he could possibly have captured the division's interest.  It would've been a source of great elation, if only he hadn't already made up his mind concerning his future career.  Still, a little extra praise never hurt anyone.

 

**_"Actually—"_ **

_Oh hush, you know what I meant._

 

"What was that all about?"

 

Kisuke looked down to his right, only to find Yoruichi standing there, fiddling with the bandage on her wounded arm.

 

"You all patched up?" Kisuke said.

 

"Yeah, it was nothing; they just wanted to make sure it wouldn't turn into an infection," she said.  "Did Matsuo say anything about the other two teams?  Or the boy?"

 

"The child is fine, they modified his memories," Kisuke said.  "The other two teams are going to proceed as normal now that there are no more extraneous sources of spiritual power out there.  And Matsuo was just congratulating us on a job well done."

 

"As well she should," Yoruichi said, nodding.  "I heard her ask you about graduation."

 

Kisuke arched an eyebrow at her, one arm resting against his hip.  "If you heard, then why did you—?"

 

"Because I wanted to see if you'd lie, you idiot, and 'lo behold, you did!" Yoruichi said.  She didn't appear to be angry at the deception, just exasperated.  "So… The Thirteenth's interested."

 

"You don't know that—"

 

"Oh, shut up, yes I _do_ know that, and so do you," she said.  "Why aren't you thrilled about this?"

 

Kisuke shrugged.  "I'm very flattered, don't get me wrong.  There's just no point in getting excited about it.  I know where I'm going."

 

Yoruichi pursed her lips, letting out a deep sigh.  "Okay, fine, I wasn't going to do this—"

 

"Do wh—?"

 

"Don't interrupt," she said.  "But you're being such a moron right now, that I just have to, and damn the consequences.  You wanna know how I got hurt?" she said, pointing at her bandaged arm.

 

"I get the feeling this is somehow going to end up being _my_ fault," he drawled.

 

"As a matter of fact, it was!"

 

" _Seriously_?"

 

"Partly, yes," Yoruichi said.  "It's your damn gigai.  Remember how you suggested I try out yours first to get a feel for it?"

 

Kisuke frowned at her, unsure of where this was headed.  "Yes…?"

 

"It was different.  _Very_ different."

 

"Well, of course it was.  These are state-of-the art gigai; I don't really have access to the kind of materials—"

 

"Yours was _better_."

 

"—that were used— What?" Blinking at her, Kisuke was certain he must've heard wrong.

 

"The prototypes we tested out today are pretty fancy, yes, and they adapt to the user in half the time it takes Fleshy to do it," Yoruichi said.  "Plus they don't stink—"

 

"Hey now, Kūkaku's tip helped!"

 

"—but yours is better where it counts."

 

Kisuke let out a gentle scoff, wondering if this was just an elaborate ruse to get him to consider Matsuo's unspoken offer seriously.  "I tried both of them, I didn't notice—"

 

"They can't keep up with _me_ ," Yoruichi said.  "That beat-up old gigai you've tinkering with all these months responded to my movements _far_ better than the prototype did.  That's why I got hurt.  I mistimed my dodge on the landing, because I assumed the new gigai would be more effective than Fleshy.  It wasn't."  

 

Given the limitations of any gigai, even the most advanced one, Kisuke would've normally written off Yoruichi's claim as an exaggeration.  Of _course_ no gigai would be able to keep up with her; even Matsuo had warned them to only expect about 75% efficiency.  And yet on that afternoon back in December, when Yoruichi had first tested out Fleshy, they had truly pushed the gigai to its limits, performed an exhaustive array of tests, including a rather intense sparring match.  She wouldn't have held back.

 

"Huh," was all he could say, mouth slightly agape as he stared at Yoruichi, his mind already full of what could be done to fine-tune Fleshy, bring his peak efficiency up to the maximum possible.

 

"So… Still think you belong in the Kidō Corps?" Yoruichi said.

 

"I…  It's not like I'd have all the freedom in the world to engage in—"

 

"You'd have a lot more freedom as a Soul Reaper than you ever would as a Kidō specialist," Yoruichi said.  "And you _know_ it.  When was the last time you got to see Tessai, hmmm?  Nine, _ten_ months ago?  When was the last time you saw Tessai _anywhere_ other than my family's estate?"

 

Kisuke bit down on his cheek, knowing that she was right: a career in the Kidō Corps meant complete and total isolation from the rest of Soul Society.  Tessai's rare outings were only a perk afforded to him by virtue of his relationship to Lord Shihōin.

 

"So… wait, what was all that about not planning on telling me, and _damn the consequences_?" he said, in an attempt to change the subject.  As much as he appreciated Yoruichi's concern, this was neither the time nor the place to be discussing something so personal.

 

Yoruichi let out a sigh.  "I just _know_ you'll now pester me to death about _fine-tuning_ Fleshy or whatever…"

 

Kisuke grinned at her.  "Don't you want to be part of innovative research?"

 

Yoruichi tried her best to glare at him, but it was only a half-hearted attempt, her lips struggling to stay in a straight line.

 

"He _truly_ doesn't smell that bad anymore."

 

"All right, _fine_ , I'll admit that—"

 

"YORUICHI!"

 

Both Kisuke and Yoruichi turned toward the sound of the voice.  Yoshida was sprinting across the rain-splattered street, heading straight for the medical station.  It seemed his team had just completed their training, as well.  He came to a stop right before her, wet to the core and panting, his eyes instantly drawn to her bandaged arm.

 

"I heard—" he said, in between pants.  "You got hurt— Just finished—"

 

As Yoruichi went about reassuring him she was fine, Kisuke quietly withdrew and stepped away.  The station was soon filled with elated voices, the two medics hard at work in aiding the newly arrived team to extricate themselves from their gigai.

 

Kisuke took his seat by the fire again, every now and then making idle conversation with his excited classmates, but his thoughts were otherwise occupied.  Matsuo and Yoruichi's words kept replaying in his head, and for that brief moment, with the atmosphere around him crackling with euphoria, he allowed himself to entertain the notion that perhaps his future wasn't set in stone.

 

* * *

 

**FEBRUARY 11 TH, 128 B.H.I., 2ND DISCTRICT, NORTHWEST RUKONGAI**

 

Yoruichi zig-zagged between the legs of giggling children who tried in vain to catch the _Lucky Black Cat._  She leapt out of reach, onto the roof of a short shack, much to the disappointment of the young crowd.  She was tempted to raise a paw and give her audience a parting wave, but there was already more than enough commotion in the district's streets on New Year's Day without her adding to it.

 

She hurried her pace as she headed over to Kisuke's, eager to return to the marketplace later on and get a taste of what New Year's was like in Rukongai.  Not to mention receiving her birthday present at long last.  Moving this year's birthday celebration to today had been her idea, since January still fell within the one year mourning period for Kisuke.  A little over a month ago, he had politely declined her family's invitation to their end of December feast; though neither of them held much stock for following tradition, she had recognized that honoring his mother's memory was a far more important matter than most run-of-the-mill formalities.  As such, she had suggested an alternative, one which he had happily agreed to.

 

Yoruichi squeezed through the thin rails of the gate, then made for the back yard, where she could sense Kisuke's spiritual essence.  She circled around the cottage and found him lazing about on the deck, a book on his lap and a pipe dangling from the corner of his mouth.  Being in cat form, she had trouble gauging the temperature, but it was a sunny day, and Kisuke appeared to be comfortable in a plain, dark blue kimono, no haori needed.

 

He looked up from his book when he felt her approach, smiling at her.  "Good morning," he said.  "Happy New Year."

 

Yoruichi jumped up on the polished wood, about to return the wish, when she noticed the most recent addition on his deck.  A new bowl had been placed across the communal one he used to feed the strays: it was smaller, clearly intended for single usage, white, and the side was decorated with a thick, black brushstroke depicting the character for 'Yo.'  The bowl was filled with milk.

 

"Oh, aren't you high-larious," she said.

 

Kisuke grinned, closing the thick tome with a snap.  "You like it?"

 

"I suppose this is my birthday present?"

 

The suggestion left him looking scandalized.  "Of course not!  But I couldn't very well have you eating out with the _strays_."

 

"How very thoughtful," Yoruichi said in a drawl.  "Happy New Year."

 

"You snuck out of the estate like this?"

 

"No, I snuck out of Kūkaku's like this."

 

"Ohhh, I see.  You're _having tea_ , then?"

 

One of the many perks of her newly acquired cat form was the ability to sneak past her retinue completely unnoticed.  For all they knew, the finely-clad Shihōin heiress was indeed still having tea with her close friend, while they stood guard outside by the palanquin.  The only snag in the otherwise fool-proof plan was that said finery had to be discarded before she made her escape, which now posed a slight problem.

 

"Exactly," Yoruichi said.  "So… I guess it's going to look weird if you spend the day in Rukongai with a cat by your side?"

 

"Well, I had this outlandish notion of being able to _talk_ to you.  And I'd prefer it if my neighbors don't dismiss me as insane for talking to an animal."

 

"Good point.  They should be allowed to reach that conclusion on their own in due time," Yoruichi said, eliciting a chuckle out of Kisuke.  "Well, in that case…"

 

Kisuke narrowed his eyes at her.  "You planning on stealing my entire wardrobe little by little?" he said, pushing himself up to his feet and heading indoors.

 

Yoruichi followed him, her tail swishing merrily as they made their way toward the stairs.  "I'd protest, but the yukata turned out to be a godsend.  Why are men's clothes so much looser and more comfortable?"

 

"I suspect it's all part of the patriarchy's nefarious plan."

 

Yoruichi gave a jump and quickly scaled up Kisuke's back, coming to rest on his shoulder.  "You mock me, but you _know_ it's true."

 

Kisuke stepped into his bedroom and over to the closet, pulling the sliding door open.  "All right, let's see…" he said, kneeling down to go through a crate of old garments.  "I think I've kept a few clothes from my younger years."

 

Yoruichi let out a snort.  "You _think_.  Of course you have; you're a hoarder," she said.  The idea of wearing something that had been kept in storage for years might've put her off, if she didn't already know that Asuka was making regular visits to help Kisuke out with cleaning, and most importantly cooking.  She had no doubt Asuka would've insisted on giving them all a proper wash before putting them away in a container.

 

"I am not.  You just never know when you might need something.  Case in point," Kisuke said, reaching for a brown kimono.  "This should be about your size."

 

"Brown looks horrible on me," Yoruichi said, leaning down from his shoulder to look at the contents of the crate.  "Pick another one.  Oooh, that hunter green one!  I like it; it has pinstripes."

 

She leapt off his shoulder and onto the bed, where he had just deposited the winter kimono, along with a pair of white tabi. 

 

"Thanks," she said.  "It just occurred to me, though, what about—?"

 

Kisuke held up a pair of sandals dangling from his two fingers, before laying them down by the bed.

 

"You've kept your old sandals?"

 

"No, these are brand new."

 

"You bought me _sandals_?" Yoruichi said, more than a little pleased that he had anticipated the need.  "Is _this_ my gift?"

 

Kisuke shook his head at her.  "So impatient…" he said.  "I'll wait downstairs.  If this one doesn't fit, have a look around for another one that might."

 

"You could've saved me the trouble and bought me a kimono, too," Yoruichi said.  It would've made things infinitely easier if either of them had simply suggested she keep an entire outfit at his place for such occasions.  The fact that Kisuke had thought of shoes but not a simple kimono _was_ a little strange.

 

Did he actually _like_ the idea of her wearing his clothes?

 

Smirking at her, Kisuke closed the door behind him and headed downstairs, giving her some privacy.

 

 _He **does**._  

 

As Yoruichi rolled out the fresh-smelling green kimono and black undershirt – _Thank goodness for Asuka-_ she decided that she liked it, too.

 

The kimono turned out to be just a touch longer than what she would've normally worn, but it wasn't an issue once she was done adjusting the obi.  There was little she could do about her hair, but she figured looking as unfashionable as she could in a man's kimono and loose hair was probably a good idea today, when she didn't want to be drawing unnecessary attention.  She slipped the black tasuki that came with the robe underneath her obi and went back downstairs, where Kisuke was waiting for her by the stairway.

 

Pushing himself off the railing, he gave her the one-over.

 

Yoruichi noticed the small package sitting on the cabinet next to him, recognizing it as the package she had sent over a few days ago.  She was glad to see it hadn't been opened.  "Are we doing this now?" she said, motioning toward the package.

 

"Naaaah, I think I'll keep up the suspense a little longer," he said.

 

Yoruichi rolled her eyes at him.  "You got yours, then?"

 

"Right here," he said, patting the front of his kimono.  "Thought we could make the exchange over lunch."

 

Yoruichi couldn't tell whether he simply wanted to prolong the wait, or if the public exchange was an attempt to one-up her by unveiling something spectacular before an audience.  The low price range they had established years ago was meant to make gift-giving a little more challenging.  Coming up with something both cheap and meaningful was no easy task, and Kisuke, damn him, was usually the winner of their unofficial competition to outdo each other.

 

This year, however, Yoruichi was _positive_ she would be the undisputed winner.   

 

"All right then, turn around," she said.  "Two can play at this game."

 

Kisuke indulged her with a grin, looking away as she made for the package and withdrew his gift, tucking the small pouch underneath her obi. 

 

"May I turn around now?"

 

"Yep, I'm good," Yoruichi said, securing the obi and making certain the little pouch was well and truly hidden.  "So… Are we ready to go?"

 

Kisuke held his arm out toward the door and Yoruichi stepped outside, staring up at the clear blue sky.  Luck seemed to be on her side, today; perfect weather conditions for her first outdoor New Year's.  Kisuke closed the door behind him, leading her out of the gate and back into the district's busy streets.

 

It was a short trip from the cottage to the marketplace, and on the way there, nearly every single home they passed by appeared to be empty, the inhabitants no doubt out and about, celebrating. 

 

"I haven't eaten since lunch yesterday," Yoruichi said, her mouth watering at the mere thought of all the tantalizing aromas she had walked past on her way to Kisuke's.  "Wanted to make room for today."  

 

"Mmm, yes, because otherwise, getting you to eat would've been quite the task," Kisuke said.

 

"Look who's all _quippy_ today."

 

"Today?"

 

"Well, usually you at least make an effort to _sound_ sincere," she said.  "Today you're not even trying."

 

"I shall redouble my efforts to be subtly sarcastic, then," he said, chuckling.

 

As they walked on, the sound of music reached Yoruichi's ears and she turned toward the source, realizing that it wasn't coming from the marketplace; they still had about two minutes' worth of a way to go.  "What's that?" she said.

 

"Sounds like it's coming from the square," Kisuke said, gazing toward the direction of the upbeat music.  "Oh, it's probably the cleaning of the well."

 

"Isn't that on July?" Yoruichi said.  "And what's with the music?"

 

"Well, things get a little messier in the districts.  Leaves, stones, children's toys…" Kisuke said.  "They clean it out twice a year around here, mostly to ward off illness.  They make a whole event out of it, bring musicians, have some sake, get the whole neighborhood to help out."

 

"Really?" Yoruichi said, her eyes brightening.  "Sounds like fun…"

 

Kisuke came to a stop next to her, one hand casually draped over the front of his kimono.  "You wanna go help clean the well?"

 

Yoruichi turned to him, bouncing on her feet.  "I wanna help clean the well."       

 

"Okay, then," Kisuke said, chuckling.  "Right this way."

 

The well in Kisuke's neighborhood was located in a small square surrounded by single-story houses.  There was little in the way of beautification other than a couple of benches and some shrubbery, but today it had been decorated with rows upon rows of colorful lanterns hanging by ropes, which the residents had secured upon tree trunks.  The square was packed with people of all ages.  The elders mostly occupied the benches and were looking in on the revelries, as children zoomed about and young adults readied themselves for the laborious undertaking.

 

A tall, three-legged device had been outfitted over the well and secured on the ground, while three musicians sat by the side, plucking away at their instruments, a small table holding numerous cups of what could only be sake right beside them.  The festive folk music of the taiko, shamisen and shakuhachi filled the small square, as the adults gathered around a circle and seemed to be occupying themselves with some sort of task at the center, the occasional shrill cry of laughter sounding over the music.

 

"What are they doing?" Yoruichi asked Kisuke.

 

"See that tri-pod over there?" Kisuke said, pointing at the contraption above the well.  "That's where they'll secure the pulley."

 

"Why not use the regular pulley from the well?"

 

"Because it won't be able to hold _him_ ," he said, motioning toward the group of adults now dispersing and falling into full-blown laughter. 

 

There was a man undressed down to a loincloth right before the well, and Yoruichi now had a very clear visual of what the adults had been up to just before.  A basket-like seat had been weaved out of rope around him, leaving two openings for his legs.  The edges of the weave met up above his head, ending in one long piece of rope, which Yoruichi could only assume was meant to go on the pulley.

 

"Is _he_ —?" she said, laughing in disbelief.  "I thought they'd just use a bucket or a sieve— Won't he _freeze_?" 

 

"I suspect he's well and truly drunk by now," Kisuke said, and Yoruichi could see what he meant.  The man's face was red and shiny, like the rest of his body, and he seemed to be unable to control his laughter as some of the residents secured the pulley on the tripod and slung the rope in place.  "So he's plenty warm, I'd say.  Plus, I'm pretty sure they're just done rubbing blubber all over him."

 

"How safe is this?"

 

"The structure actually looks very stable," Kisuke said.  "Whoever made it knew what they were doing."

 

"Ohhh, it's starting!" Yoruichi said, as the song ended and the man in question was served two more cups of sake before his descent. 

 

Yoruichi reached down into her obi and pulled out the black tasuki, securing her sleeves up and leaving her forearms free for labor.  Kisuke was taking his sweet time with his own sleeves, and Yoruichi reached up impatiently, tying up the knot by his shoulder. 

 

"Hurry or we won't get a spot!" she said, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him forward into the square.

 

The lines on either side of the rope were already forming, the musicians readying themselves for another song by having a round of sake themselves.  Yoruichi squeezed in through the revelers and led Kisuke over to an empty spot about mid-way down the rope's length, reaching down to pick up the end.  The moment she did so, her hair came flowing past her shoulders and right down to her face.

 

"I _may_ have a problem here," she said, rising up to full height, spitting a few rogue hairs out of her mouth.

 

Kisuke laughed at the sight, then yanked at the tasuki secured by his collarbone.  He pulled the string free from around his shoulders, and as Yoruichi was about to protest that he wouldn't be able to do any work with sleeves in the way, he cut her off.  "I'll manage," he said, reaching around to gather her hair around her nape.

 

Yoruichi felt a shiver run down her spine as his fingers grazed the back of her neck, and she desperately hoped she wasn't about to embarrass herself by doing something as stupid as blush.  "Pull it up little higher," she said.

 

"If I go higher," Kisuke said, tying the tasuki around her hair.  "Your ponytail will just drop in front of your face again.  Now it'll stay put."

 

"Thanks," Yoruichi said once he was done, handing him the end of the rope with a demure grin. 

 

Kisuke slipped his sleeves back and grabbed hold of the rope, just as the musicians picked up their instruments again, setting off into a slow, rhythmic tune to set the tempo.  The entire square cheered on as the drunk man took his seat by the edge of the well, raising his arms in gaiety.

 

"BANZAAAAAAAAI!" he cried, right as the rope was pulled tight, and another, equally drunk man stumbled forth and gave him a kick on the small of his back.

 

The rope lurched as the man's weight now hung freely in mid-air, and Yoruichi let out a gasp of laughter when they were all pulled a few steps forward, while the square erupted in a beautiful cacophony of _Banzais_.  The music kicked off in earnest, the taiko player banging hard on his drum as the group began to lower the man down the well, to the chants of the onlookers who sprinkled them with handfuls of rice:

  
_One: Sprinkle some rice straws!  
Two: To put a grin on your face!_

 

"Isn't that the _Boar's Day_ song?" Kisuke said with a grunt, as they began to pull the man up for the first ascent.

 

"Oh, just go with it!" Yoruichi said, grinning broadly and pulling at the rope with all her might.

 

The man reappeared by the rim of the well, holding the first bucket of water to be discarded and looking like he was having the time of his life.  He threw the contents at the front rows of the group, showering them with water and dry leaves, which earned him many shrieks and a sharp first drop for the next descent.

 __  
Three: Then prepare some sake!  
Four: For all to be good in the world!

 

"See?  Everyone appreciates sake but you," Kisuke said, then swiftly went about hopping from foot to foot as Yoruichi tried to land a kick on him.

 __  
Five: Find that it is like that always!  
Six: Sickness is not welcome here!

 

On the third round, the drunk man swung his bucket forward with all his strength, and Yoruichi only barely dodged in time, avoiding a shower of undoubtedly cold water.  The man pulled his bucket back, then swung forward again, apparently tricking the audience into thinking he had emptied it the first time around.  Most of them had completely bought his feint and screeched in protest upon getting drenched.  Yoruichi was about to be one of them, when Kisuke let one hand go free and pulled her away from the trajectory of the water.

 

Yoruichi let go of the rope completely, too busy cursing at the man in between fits of laughter to notice that many of her co-laborers had done the same.  The man's weight brought the whole line lurching forward again, and she was suddenly shoved forward when Kisuke bumped into her back, his arms wrapped around her as he tried to hold onto the rope.

 

Yoruichi, along with everyone who had momentarily let go, immediately reached for the rope again.  As they all leaned forward to pull, a few tendrils of Kisuke's hair tickled her cheek.

 

"That's what you get for letting go," he said, a faint grin on his lips.  He was staring resolutely forward, avoiding eye-contact, but he didn't move farther away, and neither did she.

 __  
Seven: Settle all without mishap!  
Eight: Erect rows of estates!

 

As much as she was enjoying this, Yoruichi was starting to regret her choice to forgo food altogether since yesterday.  She hadn't exactly expected to be doing manual labor, and the task was rapidly depleting her energy.

 

"How are you holding up?" Kisuke said, giving her a quick glance before turning forward again.

 

"Hnnnghhh, I am _weak,_ " Yoruichi said.  "I need sustenance."

 

"Yeah, I figured," he said, and with her back against his chest, she could feel it vibrate as he chuckled.  "One more and we'll get you some food, okay?"

 __  
Nine: Line up grand granaries!  
Ten and then all is finally done!

 

Kisuke raised his hand toward the crowd and pointed at himself and Yoruichi.  Within seconds, a pair of girls rushed forward, readily taking their places on the ropeline.

 

Grateful for the break, Yoruichi grasped her rumbling stomach with both hands as Kisuke led her to the back of the square.  "Ughhhhh, I'll take _anything_ right now, even sake—"

 

Before she'd even finished her sentence, a man standing by the musicians picked up two of the available cups and shoved both of them right under her nose.

 

Ravenous, she reached for one and was about to take a sip, when Kisuke yanked it out of her grasp and handed the cups back to the man.  "Ah-ah-ah, not on an empty stomach," he said.

 

" _No-one_ leaves the square without a shot of sake," the man said, narrowing his eyes at Kisuke, about to thrust the cups back at him.

 

"And we will be back, I promise," Kisuke told him, grinning apologetically.  "Just need to get some food in her before she gets hangry."

 

Yoruichi stared at the table of cups longingly, as Kisuke placed a hand on her back and gently pushed her forward.  "The word you're looking for is _hungry_ , and it's too late," she said, scowling at him.  "I'm already—" 

 

"Oh, no, I meant _hangry_ ," Kisuke said, as they weaved through the crowd.  "That precarious situation in which if I don't feed you in time, you start getting cranky and mean."

 

"How _dare_ you I am not cranky when I'm hungry that's such a shitty thing to say to me right now _you're_ mean and hangry!"

 

" _Clearly_ , I was mistaken," Kisuke said wryly, just as they came up to the back of the square and over to a small stand emitting a scent so pleasant it nearly made Yoruichi pass out when it reached her nostrils.  The woman behind the counter smiled at Kisuke when he approached, baskets upon baskets of freshly steamed pork buns laid out before her.  "Ten, please," Kisuke said, pulling out his money bag.

 

"And how many are _you_ getting?" she quipped.

 

"These _are_ all for you," Kisuke said, looking at her over his shoulder.

 

"Awwww… You _know_ me," Yoruichi said, cradling her aching stomach and feeling particularly affectionate for him right at this very moment.  "……Hurry," she said, nudging him with her foot.

 

The second Kisuke paid the woman and turned around, paper bag in hand, Yoruichi shoved one hand inside, fishing out one of the hot buns.  She took a fraction of a moment to appreciate its serpentine shape in honor of the Year of the Snake, before she decapitated it with her teeth.

 

"You might consider _chewing_ —"

 

By the time she was able to slow down, the contents of the paper bag numbered four items.  Belly comfortably full, she let out a content sigh, now fully able to appreciate the fact that she _may_ have overreacted a few moments ago.  She didn't even turn her nose up at the second offer of sake as they made their way out of the square, bringing the cup up before her and giving it a curious sniff.

 

"Try it," Kisuke said.  "It's toso: sake spiced with medicinal herbs.  It's actually good for you."

 

Yoruichi brought the warm liquid to her lips a little warily, but decided to just get it over with and knocked the contents back in one go.  The sweet drink was not nearly as unpleasant as regular sake.  Unless she was mistaken, she could taste many different flavors, including cinnamon, ginger…. _And a hint of rhubarb, maybe?_

 

"To your good health," Kisuke said and downed his own glass as well, setting it down on the table by the musicians.

 

"Okay, that wasn't half-bad," Yoruichi admitted as they left the square, slowly munching on one of the few buns left.  She persuaded Kisuke to finish up the rest, deciding to keep some room for a number of other treats they would undoubtedly get to taste at the marketplace.

 

Though they had originally decided to visit the shrine next, there was already such a large crowd of parishioners gathered outside, waiting to pay their respects, that they decided to return for a visit later in the day, perhaps on their return to his place, before she had to sneak back to Kūkaku's.  Instead, they made a brief stop by the empty field right across the street, admiring the many colorful shapes flying in the air.  Dozens of children accompanied by their families had come there to fly their kites this morning, taking advantage of the favorable gusts of winds that swooped in through the open field.

 

Yoruichi was fawning over a particularly well-constructed one, which sported a drawing of a snow-capped mountain, when she heard her name being called from somewhere in the distance.

 

"YORUICHIIIII!"

 

She turned around the same time Kisuke did, only to find Ganju, a waving Kaien, and who she could only assume was the latter's girlfriend, stepping out of the shrine and making a beeline straight for them.  The pretty brunette by Kaien's side was somewhat familiar, and it wasn't until the trio got closer that Yoruichi was able to recognize her as Muraoka Miyako, a girl she'd last seen about three years ago, at Kuchiki Sōjun's birthday celebration.  They were all dressed in rather festive clothing for the occasion, Muraoka in particular wearing a lovely purple kimono, and a short, white haori trimmed with fur draped over her shoulders.

 

"Hey, Happy New Year!" Yoruichi said when the three of them approached.

 

"Happy New Year!" Kaien shot back brightly.  "Hey, Urahara," he said, waving at Kisuke.

 

Kisuke waved back a little stiffly, returning the smile.  "Hello, Happy New Year."

 

"Lady Yoruichi, it's wonderful to see you again," Muraoka said, bowing her head gently.

 

"Oh please, just Yoruichi is fine," she said.  "I don't think you two have met?" she said, looking at Kisuke questioningly.

 

"Never had the pleasure," Kisuke said, giving the girl a curt, polite smile.

 

"Muraoka Miyako, Urahara Kisuke," Yoruichi said, pointing to each one in succession.

 

"A delight to meet you, Lady Muraoka."

 

"Likewise, Urahara.  Kūkaku speaks of you often."

 

"All good things, I hope?"

 

Kaien looked from Kisuke to Muraoka and their stiff, to-the-book bows, then over to Yoruichi.  "They're both so _proper_ , aren't they?"

 

"Yeah," she said, laughing.  "Relax, you two.  So, what are you guys up to?" Yoruichi asked, her eyes straying over to the broken kite in Ganju's hands and his crestfallen expression.

 

"We're on our way to Kūkaku's for the day," Kaien said.  "We just swung by so Ganju could fly his kite, but, ah… we had a bit of an accident.  Sorry, buddy," he said, giving Ganju's hair a gentle ruffle.

 

"From what I hear, Urahara is rather handy with that sort of thing, are you not?" Muraoka said, smiling brightly up at Kisuke.  "Perhaps you could help them fix it?"

 

If Kisuke was perplexed by the request, it was nothing compared to the look in Kaien's eyes as he looked at his girlfriend, completely befuddled.

 

"Uhh… I… don't see why not," Kisuke said.

 

"Excellent!" Muraoka said.  "Go on, Kaien, I'll keep Yoruichi company."  She unceremoniously ushered them off to the clearing, and Yoruichi was certain she had never before seen a more awkward trio than the picture those three made.  "I apologize for that," Muraoka said as soon as they were out of earshot.  "I only wanted a chance to speak to you in private.  Was it too presumptuous of me?"

 

"Er… no, it's fine, Muraoka, I—"

 

"If you wish me to address you as Yoruichi, then please address me as Miyako," the girl said, folding her arms before her lap, smiling at her.  "I… have been meaning to do this for a while now, but I never found the opportunity."

 

Yoruichi stared at Miyako, wondering what in the world she might have in common with that girl, when the answer came to her like a bolt of thunder: Kaien.  _Well, don't **I** feel stupid right now…_  

 

"I must confess," Miyako went on.  "For the longest time, I felt very… resentful toward you."

 

 _Uh-oh._   Had that idiot Kaien actually gone and _told_ her about that one unfortunate incident some time ago, when she'd made a complete and utter fool of herself?

 

"Without it being your fault, of course," Miyako hurried to say.  "I simply… Kaien was… courting me, and I would be lying if I claimed I hadn't been very taken with him.  However, I knew about your unofficial betrothal.  He told me neither of you were interested in seeing it fulfilled, but I didn't believe him for months.  Eventually, I came to trust him and we both agreed that this arrangement has been a source of unhappiness for both of your for far too long.  We decided to put an end to it."

 

Yoruichi gaped at Miyako; she knew first-hand how difficult it was to break away from the ingrained habits of aristocracy, and for a girl who still appeared to be so very proper, it must've taken an immense amount of courage to speak openly about matters she had been taught to keep private all her life.

 

"So… what I'm _very_ inelegantly trying to say is that, first of all, I humbly apologize for the assumptions I originally made.  Secondly, I wanted you to hear it from us first, that Kaien will be speaking to his clan elders this month," Miyako said.  "Even if it causes problems for us, it will not reflect badly on you, rest assured."

 

"I'm not worried about that," Yoruichi said, waving a hand flippantly.  "But… does this mean you two…?"

 

Miyako blushed deeply, fidgeting with the collar of her haori.  There was a very subtle, but very genuine smile on her pink-tinted lips.  "We will not actually marry for a while; Kaien wants to be financially independent first.  But we both wish to attend the Academy in the near future and we _would_ like to do so while being officially engaged."

 

Even if it hadn't meant her freedom from an unwanted betrothal, Yoruichi wouldn't have had to reach far for the smile that now graced her face.  She knew, all too well, just how lost Kaien had been for the longest time, torn between his own wants and needs and his guilt over Kūkaku assuming so many responsibilities.  She had known just how badly he had always wanted to step up, and it seemed now that Miyako had helped him find the courage to do just that.

 

"Congratulations, Miyako," Yoruichi said.  "Truly, I am very happy for the both of you."

 

"Thank you, Yoruichi," Miyako said, her own smile dazzling.  "You will, of course, be invited, when… in the future… Anyway, I do not mean to ramble on.  Did I… Um," she said, glancing toward the direction of the three men.  "I hope my little stunt didn't spoil your day?"

 

"Oh, no, don't worry about it," Yoruichi said.  "We were just— And Kisuke really _is_ very handy.  I must warn you though, by the time Ganju's kite is repaired, it'll probably have wings and breathe down dragonfire or something."

 

Miyako laughed at Yoruichi's comment, gazing fondly at Kaien from afar.  Ganju's kite wasn't up in the air yet and from what Yoruichi could tell, Kisuke had taken the whole damn thing apart and was rebuilding it from scratch.  In the end, though her dragonfire prediction never came to fruition, Ganju's new, aerodynamic kite easily outflew the competition.

 

When Kisuke, Ganju and Kaien returned, the boy's cheeks were flushed in excitement, and it seemed that for all involved, it had been a pleasant interlude.

 

"Worked up an appetite?" Miyako asked them, smiling down at Ganju.

 

"DID YOU SEE HOW HIGH IT WENT?" Ganju said, breathless and rambling on and on about how they had to do this again next year.

 

Kaien chuckled, then turned toward Yoruichi.  "We're heading off to Kūkaku's.  You guys wanna join us?  There's lots of food and she'll definitely—"

 

"Perhaps they would prefer to visit us later," Miyako said, gently interrupting Kaien.  Her eyes met Yoruichi's and there was a very knowing glint in them as she looked between her and Kisuke.  "The invitation does stand, of course.  Enjoy the rest of your day."

 

"Hey, man," Kaien told Kisuke.  "Thanks for the kite—"

 

"Don't mention it," Kisuke said, and Yoruichi was surprised to see that his smile was now one hundred per cent genuine.  "It was fun."

 

Once they had said their goodbyes, Yoruichi and Kisuke watched as the three of them made their way down the path leading away from the shrine, Ganju circling around Kaien and Miyako, his kite held aloft.

 

"Had a good talk with Lady Muraoka?" Kisuke asked.  Yoruichi arched an eyebrow at him.  "Oh, come on, it was a transparent attempt to get you alone."

 

"I did, actually," Yoruichi said, as they slowly walked toward the marketplace.

 

"So uhhh… that's… over?" Kisuke said, pointing at her, then toward the general direction of the street Kaien and co had just followed.  Once again, he was very pointedly not meeting her eyes, the redness he was obviously trying to conceal creeping up his neck and cheeks.

 

"It was never… _under_ , or _on_ or… whatever," Yoruichi said, feeling her own cheeks flush.  "Kaien told you?"

 

"Yeah, it… came up," Kisuke said.  "That's good.  For them.  I'm guessing Yoshida will be pretty thrilled about it, too?" 

 

It had been a long few hours to go without really thinking about him, but when Kisuke brought him up, Norio was all Yoruichi could focus on.  She tried to reason with herself that she had done nothing to feel guilty about, but the simple fact was that if Norio had been tagging along today, he would probably not have enjoyed himself quite so much as she had.  More to the point, it had _never_ occurred to her to invite him.  Or even mention this outing to him in the first place.

 

"I… mmmn.  Sure… I guess," Yoruichi muttered.

 

"Okay, now _I'm_ getting hungry," Kisuke said, stretching.  "Let's go get some mochi."

 

Going from having a perfectly fun day to feeling guilty and uncomfortable was a veritable emotional whiplash, but visiting the mochi stand did improve her mood significantly.  Kisuke had been going on and on about this vendor who put on a show of making the dough, and he hadn't exaggerated.

 

With his assistant holding a large mallet over the wooden barrel, the vendor began kneading and folding the sticky rice paste within.  The build-up was slow: the assistant would pound the dough hard, then the vendor would fold it, occasionally dipping his hands in a bowl of water before touching the dough again.  Over and over they would alternate, pounding and kneading, increasing their speed to the point that the audience was making quiet bets as to how long before the vendor got his hand accidentally smashed.  He never did, however, eventually taking his dough out to the applause of the crowd, and carried it off to the back to be shaped into round little mochi.

 

As she sat on a bench with Kisuke, the box of mochi laid out between them, Yoruichi watched the crowd come and go along the marketplace, the passersby enjoying the sunny day and the festive atmosphere.

 

Kisuke was watching her intently, and judging by the smidgen of guilt in his eyes, he seemed to have realized he had said something to put her off earlier on.  Plopping a flour-covered mochi in his mouth, he reached into the front of his kimono and pulled out a small, narrow box covered in wrapping. 

 

"Present time?" he said.

 

Yoruichi glanced down at the box, licking her fingers, her mouth full of mochi.  

 

"It's been long enough, I don't want to torture you any longer," he said, smirking.

 

_This is it.  My time has finally come._

Yoruichi swallowed her mouthful, nodding.  "All right then, prepare to be _crushed_ ," she said, reaching into her obi and pulling out the small pouch that contained his present, all thoughts of Norio and her guilt evaporating at once.

 

Kisuke handed her his gift first and Yoruichi observed the box from all angles, rattling it gently.  She heard a soft, tinkling sound come from within, like metal hitting metal, as well as the sound of tissue paper getting crinkled.

 

"This isn't…" she said, blinking.  She had heard that sound before, but only ever from presents she had received from her parents.  "Is this _jewelry_?" she asked, staring at him in disbelief.

 

Kisuke said nothing but simply shrugged, the smug expression never leaving his face.

 

"Are you serious?  You didn't have to— You know I don't like to wear much…" she said, starting to unwrap the box, her cheeks reddening again.  "I mean… thanks and all, just— Ugh, this is taking _forever_ to unwrap," she said as he fingers fumbled with the wrapping, but she didn't want to tear it.  "What did you even _get_ , it's—" She opened up the box. "Collar.  You got me a _cat_ collar."  Complete with _bell_ , no less.

 

"We could get your name embossed on it if you w—"

 

He never got to finish his sentence, as she immediately began to put his present to good use by smacking him on the shoulder with it, to the sound of both his and her laughter.

 

"Okay, okay, WAIT!" he said, holding up both hands.  "It was a joke gift." 

 

 _Yet another one_.  Good grief, how many gag gifts had he actually prepared for today? 

 

Carefully, he reached into his kimono again and withdrew another package, this one bigger but far slimmer.  " _This_ is your real present."

 

Glaring at him, Yoruichi yanked it out of his hands while simultaneously thrusting the pouch over to him.

 

"I'll… open mine first, shall I?" Kisuke said, grinning at her and toying with the leather pouch in his hands.

 

"Mmm," Yoruichi grunted, dropping his gift on her lap and folding her arms in front of her chest, before remembering that her gift required a bit of a prologue.  "Okay, so… I know you really like my family's Vault and all, but umm… I always thought our greatest treasure was this," she said, pointing at the pouch.  "I guess not everyone feels the same way, but I think it's something you can appreciate."

 

Kisuke undid the strings, looking awfully curious about what might be hidden inside.  He tipped the pouch to the side, and a small, delicate object fell out into his waiting palm, wafer-thin and shaped like a wing, tapering down into a small bud on one end.  She had been fully prepared to explain what it was, but judging by the expression on his face, she didn't have to.  He knew that he was looking at a maple seed.

 

"They always collect a few every year," Yoruichi said.  "For safekeeping.  I don't know much about the whole process behind it, but it's supposed to be a very resilient variety, among other things.  Something about grafting, I dunno.  Still, you don't have to know the science to appreciate the beauty, right?  Well… you'll probably appreciate the science, too.  I thought you might like planting one back at your new place, now that your garden's all neat and tidy."

 

Kisuke could only gape at the seed in his hand while Yoruichi spoke, and for a second there, she feared she might have broken him completely.  Birthdays were supposed to be happy occasions, and perhaps reminding him of his mother today of all days, when it had scarcely been a year since her death, had been a massive blunder on her part.

 

"Kisuke?" she said tentatively.  "Are you—?"

 

"Dammit…" he said quietly, cupping the front of his mouth with one hand.  "Yours _is_ better."

 

Satisfied that she hadn't actually managed to depress him instead of giving him a gift she thought he'd like, Yoruichi was able to focus on her victory, throwing her arms up and letting out a cackle.  "Yes! I WIN!"

 

Kisuke smiled at her and stared back at his present, rubbing the back of his neck.  "Seriously, I… This is… absolutely amazing.  Thank you."

 

Yoruichi bounced in her seat, smiling back.  " _And_ it came at zero cost," she said, making a circle with her thumb and forefinger.  "Which means I get an extra one hundred for next year's budget, plus last year's twenty."

 

"All right, all right," Kisuke said, chuckling.  "I concede: you definitely win this year." He bit his lower lip gently, now wincing as he looked at the present on her lap.

 

Yoruichi narrowed her eyes at him.  "You're not doing this whole pity party bit only to unveil something awesome again, right?  Because it wasn't funny ten years ago and it won't be funny now."

 

"I'm not, I swear.  I just—"

 

The rest of his words became muddled when she started undoing the wrapping and he watched, still wincing, as she pulled it apart, only to reveal a… leather-bound book?  "Is this a book?" she said, frowning at the cover.  There was nothing on it, no writing, except for a small embossed flower at the front.  When she flipped it open, she saw that all the pages were blank.  "No, wait.  It's a… journal?"

 

The leather was quite fine and the paper was excellent quality, but she was finding it very hard to hide her disappointment.  Every single gift they had ever bought for each other, no matter how inexpensive, always held some sort of significance, even a joke gift like that silly cat collar.  A journal, no matter how beautiful, was the most bland, generic gift she could think of.  Had he _really_ picked this out for her as something he thought she'd enjoy?

 

"Thanks, it's a very handsome one," she said, trying –but failing- to inject some sincerity in her words.  "Great… leather."

 

Kisuke chuckled, and she could see that he knew she was completely thrown by this.  "You missed something," he said.

 

"What?" Yoruichi said, flipping through the pages again.  "I don't see anyth—" As she inspected the journal again, she saw that the back of the front cover had a small sleeve, and there was something tucked inside.  She pulled it out and saw that it was a large piece of good quality parchment, folded many times over.  Intrigued, she set the journal aside on the bench and spread the parchment open on her lap. 

 

Two things surprised her when she did.  For one thing, it wasn't a single parchment, but three separate ones folded together; secondly, what she was looking at was a set of _maps_.  Having spent a good many years ogling over this particular cartographer's work, she was able to recognize his lines and coloring upon first glance.  And even though his work wasn't as expensive as it might've been had his shop been located in the Court instead of Rukongai, Watanabe would have charged a pretty penny for such an extensive project:

 

The largest, most complex map was of Japan, extremely detailed down to the thinnest streams, the smallest dirt paths, with everything labelled clearly.  The other two smaller maps were just as painstakingly drawn, depicting Korea and the Ryūkyū Kingdom.

 

If she had thought that she might ever actually have a use for them, she might have commissioned Watanabe herself.  As it was, she was well aware that extensive travelling wasn't in her immediate future.  And yet the gesture alone…

 

"Maps?" Yoruichi said, gaping at Kisuke.

 

"We'll be graduating in a few months, so that means more missions in the human world.  You'll get to see Japan," he said, smiling at her.  "You'll notice that China and Russia are missing, but er… They'd probably weigh about ten times that journal each, so I'll save them for next year, shall I?"

 

Swallowing hard, Yoruichi let her fingertips graze the surface of Watanabe's beautiful work, her chest swelling with emotions she had no name for.  "Missions in the human world don't mean I get to go exploring wherever I want, you know…"

 

"Well, perhaps not _now_ , but when you're a Captain in five years or so—"

 

Yoruichi rolled her eyes at that comment, laughing softly.

 

"—you'll get to send the grunts off to do the dirty work while you try the local cuisine and see the sights."

 

"And this?" she said, pointing at the journal.

 

"I figured you might like to keep a record of your travels."

 

Yoruichi looked down on her lap, incredibly touched at the thought process behind the gift, but at the same time unable to accept it.  "Thank you," she said, turning to look at him.  "But this… this did _not_ cost one hundred kan."

 

To her surprise, Kisuke didn't contradict her, even though she had fully expected him to make up some sort of ridiculous excuse.  "You're right, it didn't."

 

"So… this is beautiful, really, but there's a reason we agreed on a limit.  You broke the rules."

 

"No I didn't."

 

 _Aaaand there it is._   Yoruichi let out a sigh.  "You _just_ admitted that this didn't cost—"

 

"I did, yes.  But I had a lot saved up from previous years."

 

"No you didn't, last year's cost ninety kan—"

 

"Actually, it cost seventy kan.  The year before that, forty."

 

Yoruichi scowled at him, her lips parted.  _Oh, you gargantuan **ass**._  "You told me it cost eighty."

 

His smirk now fully returned, Kisuke rested his elbow against the armrest of the bench.  "I lied.  Tally it all up, and I broke no rules."

 

Though she had no idea how much the maps actually cost, his insinuation, if it were true, could only mean that he had been planning this for a _very_ long time.  

 

"If you don't believe me, feel free to ask around the marketplace for the real cost of my previous gifts."

 

Her scowl grew deeper, and Yoruichi found herself torn between gratitude for the gift and anger over the magnitude of the deceit.  "I… Well… Ugh, _no,_ dammit!" she said, gritting her teeth.  " _I_ was supposed to win this year!"

 

"And you did."

 

"What, even against _this_?" she said wryly, pointing at the open maps on her lap.

 

"Oh, yes," Kisuke said, his expression softening as he stared at the pouch in his palm again, smiling gently.  "You definitely won." 

 

Despite Kisuke's claims to the contrary, Yoruichi knew she wouldn't get much use out of his gift, but she would treasure it all the same, still not entirely convinced she had won.  All the same, she carefully folded the maps and slipped them into the journal's sleeve, this time around looking at the simple, generic cover with completely different eyes.

 

"So…" Kisuke said.  "Good birthday, even though it was a belated one?"

 

"Yeah," Yoruichi said, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.  "Some things are worth the wait."

 

* * *

 

 

**MARCH 14 TH, 128 B.H.I.,OUTSKIRTS OF 1ST DISCTRICT, NORTHWEST RUKONGAI**

 

Yoruichi was speechless. 

 

Completely, _utterly_ speechless.

 

"Eh, _eh_?" Kūkaku said, pride evident in her voice.

 

"It… it's…" Yoruichi said, quite literally not finding the words.  "Woooow."

 

" _Right_?"

 

"Wow."

 

Arms held akimbo, Kūkaku turned to her, arching a fine, black eyebrow.  "You keep saying that."

 

In all honesty, she didn't know what _else_ to say, other than compliment the lovely green field surrounding Kūkaku's new place.  The structure itself was quite smaller than her previous home, but that wasn't really the issue.  Nor was the large canon stationed right behind the building; that was Kūkaku's work, after all.

 

The source of Yoruichi's speechlessness had more to do with the fact that the house was dwarfed by two massive dragon statues on either side.  From their jutting tongues hung the sides of a blood-red banner, which spelled out Kūkaku's name in black letters taller than the walls of her actual home.

 

"It's very…" Yoruichi said, gulping down.  "…unique."

 

" _Unique._ "

 

"It's very… you?"

 

"Is that a compliment?"

 

"Always."

 

Kūkaku rolled her eyes at her, then slung one arm over Yoruichi's shoulders.  "Brat," she said.  "Come on, I'll give you the grand tour."

 

With Kaien and Ganju back in the ancestral manor, Kūkaku had been able to build the kind of home she had been planning for a good few years now.  The house turned out to be far bigger than its appearance had suggested.  Upon entry, a steep stairway led underground, where all the rooms of the house were located.  Kūkaku had little need for luxurious amenities, keeping a simple, minimally decorated home.  All her care and attention had clearly gone into the large underground facility that served as her personal laboratory, where she could conduct her work and experiments in peace.

 

"So… How did your parents take it?" Kūkaku said while they ascended back up the stairway leading outside.

 

"Surprisingly well," Yoruichi said.  "I know Kaien insisted on doing it himself, but I think it went better precisely because neither of us got involved."

 

Though she had known beforehand that her mother in particular had long ago lost interest in making her daughter's engagement official, Yoruichi had never shared the information with neither Kūkaku nor Kaien.  She'd had a feeling Kūkaku would be curious as to why, and Yoruichi hadn't wanted to offend her by explaining what exactly her parents thought of her family's recent choices and living arrangements.  She had no doubt Kūkaku already knew on some level, and it didn't need to be explicitly said.   

 

"Yeah, the Shiba elders aren't new to this," Kūkaku said, probably thinking of her own past engagement.  "They know what they're doing.  Relieved?"

 

"Ohhhhhh, yes," Yoruichi said, shielding her eyes against the sun as they stepped out into the light and over to the garden.  "I know it won't last for long, but at least now I can say I'm focusing on my career for the ensuing years."

 

"Well said," Kūkaku said, chuckling and patting her on the back heartily.

 

The small garden now occupying the back yard of her new home was downright quaint when compared to the one gracing the ancestral Shiba manor.  Unlike her mother and several other ancestors, Kūkaku had little interest in the medicinal advantages of horticulture –knowledgeable though she was.  Instead, she had chosen to focus on the most modern variation of her clan's legendary alchemical prowess: pyrotechnics. 

 

After several decades of friendship, Yoruichi was by now well-acquainted with the botanical extracts Kūkaku used on a regular basis: the rice patches would serve as a source of starch fuel, the few trees as a lure for lac insects, and the Firefly Weed, a kudzu variety of her own invention, would keep the hallways of her underground home lit.  Yoruichi knew that plant in particular was a coveted little commodity, an ingenious combination of horticulture and kidō that had resulted in a creeping plant whose leaves glowed a bright, very pale green.  Kūkaku could easily make a fortune selling pots of the thing, if she ever bothered to price it accordingly.  

 

Everything else Kūkaku had planted in her small garden was likely meant for the occasional home remedy, given the small quantities.  Or perhaps it was even meant to be a connection –however distant- to her mother, who had taught her the basics of alchemy as a young child.

 

Yoruichi strolled past the green, thick bushes, coming to a stop next to a curious little plant and crouching down to examine it up close.  It resembled a mint shrub, and it was the small flower patches at the top that had drawn her attention: light purple and minty-scented, they made for a curiously familiar sight.

 

Kūkaku let out a peal of laughter at the sight of her.  "Okay, this is kind of hilarious."

 

Yoruichi looked over her shoulder at her friend, brow creased.  "What is?"

 

"You, being drawn to _that_ particular plant, of all things," Kūkaku said.

 

"I just think I might've seen it before.  What is it?"

 

"Catwort," Kūkaku said, grinning.  "Urahara asked me for a batch a while ago.  Some silver vine, too."

 

Kisuke's name instantly jogged Yoruichi's memory: she had seen a pot containing that specific plant out in Kisuke's deck.

 

"Probably figured it would keep cats flocking to his place, the dork," Kūkaku said.

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"They call it catwort because most cats go nuts over it," Kūkaku said, chuckling.  "Doesn't work on all of them, though, which is why he probably wanted the silver vine, too."

 

Recalling that none of the strays had shown particular interest in the so-called catwort, or any other plant on Kisuke's deck, Yoruichi had her follow-up question ready, though part of her already knew the answer.  "What does it do, exactly?" she said, her jaw clenched.

 

"Gets them stoned."

 

* * *

 

 

**MARCH 14 TH, 128 B.H.I., THE STUDENT LIBRARY, SPIRITUAL ARTS ACADEMY, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

It had to be some sort of unrecognized form of torture, having to attend classes even when there was no point in doing so whatsoever.  Entrance exams for the Thirteen Divisions, the Kidō Corps and the Onmitsukidō had already taken place for graduates of the Academy, and only just yesterday, acceptance and rejection letters had been mailed to all participants, along with recruitment offers from scouts, where applicable.

 

Kisuke had yet to open any of the envelopes sitting atop the kotatsu back in his dorm, trying to prolong the inevitable.  Skipping class had proved to be downright impossible: the instructors were watching the graduates like hawks, hounding their steps from class to rehearsals for the big day, now looming so close.  The only viable loophole, one Kisuke had conjured on the spot when questioned by a suspicious-looking instructor, was escaping to the library. 

 

Granted, there wasn't much there in the way of recreational reading, but he was able to distract himself by diving into an unintentionally hilarious volume on Forbidden Kidō.  It truly was a wonder, the sheer amount of lines that could be spent dancing around the subject in sternly-worded warnings about the dangers of forbidden spells.  He was tempted to start keeping a mental count of all the paragraphs that actually gave the reader any valuable information, then compare it to the grand total of content in the book, but his project was cancelled before it even began by an unexpected visitor.

 

He heard her before he felt her, her labouring breath coming out in near-growls, which was a bad enough sign on its own.  When Yoruichi meant to be silent, she was silent like the grave, and judging by the deadly glint in her eyes, the very subject of graves was probably very germane to the situation.  He couldn't have known what the exact cause for her apparent rage was, but something in her expression told him _he_ was directly responsible.

 

Never breaking eye-contact, Kisuke shut the book warily, one foot already sneaking into position under the desk, should the need for a hasty retreat arise.  "Hey," he said.

 

"Hello," Yoruichi said, a stiff, broad smile spreading across her lips.

 

And just like that, norepinephrine gushed out of his sympathetic nervous system, putting an end to the dilemma between fight or flight before such a dilemma had even consciously formed in his mind.  _Flight._

 

Clearly prepared for a knee-jerk reaction, Yoruichi blocked his path by sweeping down to the other side of the desk, hands splayed across the surface.  "Why are you running, Kisuke?" she said, a cloying, terrifying tone in her voice.

 

"I'm not run—"

 

"Have you perhaps done something?" Yoruichi went on.  "Something you might be feeling _guilty_ about?  Like, say, performing experiments you've been _explicitly_ instructed not to?"

 

 _Oh shit._  

 

"Okay, okay, okay… Before you do anything drastic, might I remind you that we're in a _library_ —"

 

"Oh, don't worry.  I'll be _very_ quiet."

 

Before he could do more than let out a strangled yelp, Yoruichi leapt on top of the desk and came straight for him.  Kisuke tried to make a run for it down the corridor, but in as few as three moves she knocked him out of balance, straddled his heels, and locked one arm around his throat.

 

"You got me _stoned,_ you jerk?" she hissed in his ear as she loomed over him, her chest flush against his back.

 

"That was an acc—!"

 

Yoruichi yanked the front of his top aside with her free hand, pawing around for the journal she knew he always kept close at hand.  Kisuke could only cringe as she pulled it out, the silence as she flipped through the pages one-handed deafening. 

 

"An _accident_ , huh?" she said, then started to read the relevant entries out loud.  "October third, 1:15 pm: 'Subject has just made con—' _SUBJECT_? Oooohhhh…" she said, tightening her grip on his throat.  " ' _Subject_ has just made contact with _Nepeta Cataria_.'  October third, 1:22 pm: 'Olfactory fatigue appears to have set in.  Subject has begun exhibiting distinct signs of a positive reaction to nepetalactone, most notably lying supine across the floor, exposing— _exposing_ _fuzzy kitty belly_ '?  _Really?_ "

 

Incapable of speech, Kisuke simply shrugged in response.

 

Taking in a deep breath through flared nostrils, Yoruichi went on.  "October third, 1:31 pm: 'Positive reaction confirmed.  Subject experienced a massive spike of hyperactivity, then lapsed into a lethargic state punctuated by excessive salivation—' OKAY THAT'S IT YOU'RE DEAD."

 

With Yoruichi now fully restricting his windpipe, Kisuke knew he had only seconds before he passed out.  Quickly growing light-headed, his vision swimming, he slipped one hand down and scribbled the word 'MAYA' on the dusty floor.    

 

Slackening her hold the tiniest bit, Yoruichi scowled at him.  "What _about_ Maya?" she said, as he gasped for breath.

 

"I wasn't just messing around with you—"

 

She let out a scoff.

 

"Honest!" Kisuke said, his voice hoarse.  "I was trying to figure out how your powers work."

 

Yoruichi remained perfectly still, neither tightening nor releasing her grip.  Knowing he was pushing his luck, Kisuke glanced up at her timidly.

 

"Swear," she said.  "Swear on something _important._ "

 

"May Fleshy never work again if I'm lying to you."

 

Yoruichi's eyes narrowed down to slits as she mulled over his words.  Kisuke tried his best to look innocent –with only marginal success he assumed- patiently waiting for her response, but he never got one.  Instead, he followed her gaze as she glanced up past him, only to find the librarian standing a few feet away from them, mouth agape at the sight.

 

"Okay, I know how this looks," Yoruichi said.  "But he _totally_ had it coming."

 

"It's true, I kinda did."

 

Though the ensuing few minutes weren't exactly pleasant, they gave Kisuke the opportunity to get ahead of the unfortunate misunderstanding with Yoruichi.  After they had been summarily kicked out of the library, he asked her to follow him back to his dorm, where he promised he would explain everything.

 

By the time he had finished recounting his observations and future predictions concerning her shikai release, Yoruichi, though far from mollified, was at least significantly less homicidal.  Stretched out across the floor of the communal area by the kotatsu, she supported her head against her balled fist and arched an eyebrow at him.

 

"I still don't see how this is even remotely related to you drugging me," she said.

 

"Okay, _that_ was… not exactly my objective," he said, the apologetic grin he had been wearing ever since the library never leaving his lips.  "And in my defence, I did nothing but observe.  And then carry you indoors by the fire.  Where you specifically said, and I quote, _That was the best nap ever,_ after you woke up.  Just saying."

 

Yoruichi's withering stare told him he had better get to the point fast.

 

"Anyway, this all started when I asked Miss Shiba for the catwort with the specific intention of testing it on the strays," he said.  "But it didn't work on them.  There's a small percentage that isn't affected by it, which is when I requested some silver vine as an alternative, which didn't work, either.  I suspect it's the mother; I tested it out on other litters in the area—" he said, but upon seeing the glimmer of imminent violence return in her gaze, he quickly got back on track. 

 

"—aaaand you do not care about this.  Right.  So.  I gave up on that, but by then, I had compiled enough information on your shikai release to start noticing an emerging pattern," he said.  "Your improved speed and power, impressive though they are, aren't the most interesting part here.  It's the enhanced eyesight and hearing that caught my attention.  You've mentioned that up until you achieved shikai, you experienced random spikes in both senses?"

 

"Yes?" Yoruichi said, frowning.

 

"That doesn't happen anymore, though, correct?"

 

"No, they only ever activate when I'm in shikai now."

 

"And you had no reaction to the catwort while in your regular form."

 

"No, none."

 

"Do you see it now?" Kisuke said, grinning.  "According to the literature, catwort is known to affect all species of cats, big or small.  The experiment confirms what I've long suspected: your Soul Cutter abilities are all about you taking on some sort of… aspect of a feline."

 

"Aspect of a feline," Yoruichi repeated, sitting up and resting her folded arms upon the kotatsu.

 

"Call it what you will," Kisuke said.  "The point to all this was to gain some measure of insight, as to what you might expect in the future, and I think we're on the right track.  See, whereas someone like myself might have an easier time with my shikai at the beginning stages, I'll have to keep honing it as my spiritual power increases.  Your journey appears to be the opposite of that: outside of the cat form, you can only keep your shikai active for two minutes before your pool of energy runs dangerously low.  You have to time its use for it to be effective, but it'll get easier the more your power matures."

 

Yoruichi stared at him, fiddling with her joined fingers as she considered his words.  "It's three, by the way," she said.  "I'm up to three minutes now."

 

"And was I right?  No change in the amount of energy needed to activate and maintain it?"

 

"No, no change.  It appears to be fixed."

 

He couldn't help it; he smirked.

 

"You're getting worse with every passing day, you know…" Yoruichi said, struggling to keep her expression sober and unyielding, with marginal success.  "I have half a mind to write Captain Himura and warn him to run the other way."

 

"Captain Himura?"

 

In response, Yoruichi motioned down at the kotatsu, and over to the small stack of sealed envelopes sitting there; the one marked _Second Division_ sat at the top.  In between his flurry to explain himself to Yoruichi, he had forgotten all about them.

 

"Why haven't you opened them yet?" Yoruichi asked.

 

"Eh… I er, you know, busy with classes and all, I was going to—"

 

Unconvinced by his feeble excuse, Yoruichi took the top envelope in her hand and held it up.  "If you want me to forgive you for the unsolicited experiments, we're doing this right now."

 

 _Oh boy…_ Kisuke's eyes flitted from the stack of envelopes to her and back again, as he ran a hand through his hair, entirely unprepared for this.  "Have you opened yours?"

 

"Mmm-hm."

 

"Big pile?"

 

"Can't complain."

 

"You got an offer from every single division, didn't you?"

 

"Not from _this_ one," she said, pointing at the next envelope on top of the stack, the letter from the Kidō Corps.

 

It was no use prolonging this any longer.  And it wasn't as though Yoruichi didn't already know how conflicted he was over the choice he had to make.  The problem was that he knew she would advocate strongly for him to choose one of the Thirteen Divisions over the Kidō Corps, and for all his humming and hawing, he already knew what his choice was going to be.

 

Still, it couldn't hurt to take a look, just for the fun of it.

 

"All right…"  Kisuke said, picking up half of the envelopes in the stack and giving the rest to her.  "Let's do this."

 

The total number of envelopes numbered ten, one from the Kidō Corps and nine from the Divisions, far more than he had ever dreamed he would receive.  The end-of-year graduate exhibition tournament must've played a part in this, he mused, as it was known to be an event division scouts always attended in search of recruits.  If the Shihōin name wasn't already famous enough, winning the title had undoubtedly made Yoruichi a standout, flooding her with offers from everywhere, even divisions that were already operating in full capacity; meritocracy aside, a Shihōin as talented as Yoruichi was not a candidate anyone with an operating brain would ever pass over.

 

Kisuke supposed coming in second in the tournament hadn't hurt his own chances, either: nine out of thirteen was nothing to scoff at.  The only divisions that hadn't expressed an interest were the First, Third, Fifth and Eleventh.

 

While Yoruichi busied herself with the division offers, Kisuke took a deep breath in and opened the one marked Kidō Corps.  For the briefest of moments, right before he unfolded the letter, a small, illogical part of him hoped that he was about to read he had failed the entrance exam, or that his application had been rejected for whatever reason.  He didn't even bother chastising himself for a thought he knew was neither healthy, nor fleeting.  The fact that he was more comfortable with the possibility of disappointing Lord Shihōin so immensely rather than confront him, spoke volumes of just how unprepared he was to make this decision.

 

"You got in?" Yoruichi asked, watching him closely.

 

"I got in," Kisuke said, holding the acceptance letter out with a forced smile.  "Full marks."

 

"Congratulations," she said, and she sound just about as excited as he felt.

 

The rest of the offers from the divisions were all generous, running the gamut between eleventh and seventh seat.  That is, until Yoruichi opened the envelope from the Thirteenth.

 

"Oh _he-lloooo_.  I think we have a winner," she said, her jaw dropping.  With a broad, genuine smile this time, she handed him the letter, leaning over the kotatsu to watch as he read it himself.

 

Kisuke took the letter off her hands somewhat warily, skimming over the generic acceptance spiel that preceded every offer.  When he got to the more salient part of the letter, his eyes snapped wide.  "Fifth Seat?"

 

" _Fifth Seat_.  Straight away.  Wow."

 

Thirteenth Division, led by Captain Ukitake, with Lieutenant Matsuo Megumi as his second.  Kisuke recalled spotting her face in the crowd during the tournament, their conversation after the Karakura mission now replaying in his head.

 

"You don't think it's a little… excessive?" Kisuke said.

 

"Well, thanks to yours truly—" Yoruichi placed a hand on chest. "—you are now a… competent hand-to-hand fighter—"

 

"Oh hush, I'm blushing."

 

"—and you're _moderately_ talented in spellwork.  Decent spiritual pressure, too.  So no, not excessive.  If anything, you're being underestimated if we're talking purely about skills.  But officers do need experience, which you lack, so I'm guessing this is a balancing act," she said.  "Too modest an offer and you wouldn't be interested, but just a notch higher than what you might expect and they've got your attention.  Even if they don't think you're entirely suited for Fifth Seat officer yet, they probably see potential in you."

 

Kisuke stared at the letter in his hands again, reading the words _Fifth Seat_ over and over again and repeating them in his head, like a mantra.

 

"So what will it be?" Yoruichi said, holding up the two empty envelopes of the Kidō Corps and the Thirteenth Division.  "Fancy Kidō tricks or _innovative_ gigai research with the occasional Hollow slayage to mix things up?"

 

Chuckling, Kisuke took them both out of her hands and let out a sigh as he looked at them, biting down on his lower lip.

 

"Shall we break out the pro/con lists?" Yoruichi quipped.

 

"Do not _mock_ the scientific process."

 

"If you're going with the Divisions it's gotta be the Thirteenth, right?" Yoruichi said.  "They made the best offer."

 

"I guess…"

 

"Captain Ukitake is supposed to be pretty amazing."

 

 _Captain Ukitake…_ Aside from a few random sightings in the Court, Kisuke had last seen the man more than a century ago.  It had taken them a while to figure out who the mysterious Captain had been, that night at the Shihōin estate when they had been caught out of bed by Tessai, but he knew now that it had been Captain Ukitake.

 

"So I hear," Kisuke said.  "Kind of cute, too."

 

"What does th—?" Yoruichi began, before realization dawned on her.  "Oh _Gods_ , how do you even _remember_ that?" she said, a slight blush on her cheeks as she undoubtedly recalled her childish infatuation with the handsome Captain.  She shook her head at him as he grinned in response.  "Well?"

 

As pleasant as indulging in a fleeting fantasy had been, Kisuke looked up at Yoruichi, knowing it was time to put an end to this.  "You know which one it's going to be."

 

Yoruichi let out a groan.  "Why, because my _father_ said so a million years ago?  It's not like you can't still work at the Vault; that's the part he actually cares about."

 

"It's not _quite_ that simple."

 

"Yes, yes it _is_ that simple!"

 

Setting both envelopes down on the table, Kisuke frowned at her in concern.  "Why are you getting so worked up over this?"

 

"Because _you_ get a choice!"

 

"So do you."

 

" _Please_ …" Yoruichi said, letting out a scoff.  "My choice was made for me centuries ago.  I'm not complaining, mind you.  I know I'd still choose the Onmitsukidō, even without my family's influence.  I just… it's never just the _one_ choice, you know?  It's never enough."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"Well… My father has this… _plan_ ," she said, her lips curling in distaste.  "Those aiming for the top, for the position of Supreme Commander, are required to spend a few years in all divisions within the Onmitsukidō –actually the four major ones.  The only exception to the rule are candidates who are instantly recruited into the Executive Militia and spend their entire career there."

 

"Which is what everyone in your family has always done," Kisuke said.

 

"Right," Yoruichi said.  "Even those who eventually walked a different path, like my father, always served in the Executive Militia exclusively.  And that's what I'm expected to do, as well; it's the _fastest, most efficient way to the top_ , apparently.  And it's just… I'm already in, aren't I?" she said, her exasperation mounting.  "Why can't I choose the division I want to serve in?  Wouldn't it make more sense for the Supreme Commander to be well-versed in all operations to have a better understanding of the organization they're meant to lead?  It's what Commander Sasagawa did, and it not only made him a better Commander, it made him well-liked and respected across all five divisions."

 

Kisuke knew Yoruichi was often prone to getting herself worked up as a knee-jerk reaction to her family's expectations, but given enough time, she always ended up making a choice that was right for her, even within the restrictions imposed on her by her clan.  "Was there a specific division you had in mind?" he said.

 

Yoruichi shrugged, folding her arms before her chest.  "There's a new development in the Correction Corps that looks promising," she said.  "I don't exactly have a specific preference, but I _would_ like to serve on all divisions, yes.  Sometimes I honestly think the only reason my father is opposed to it is because it's _my_ idea."

 

It took every bit of Kisuke's willpower not to point out the irony, thinking that he was plenty lucky to have escaped a thorough –and well deserved- beating earlier on, so he kept his mouth shut and tried to look sympathetic.

 

"Or Commander Sasagawa's suggestion," Yoruichi said.  "He's not a Shihōin, see, so his input doesn't have the same value," she said, rolling her eyes.  "Anyway… the point is that I don't really know what I'd like to focus on, but I'm not allowed to _not know_ , I'm not allowed to just follow my gut and see where it leads.  And it's making me question every single choice I've ever made, you know?  I mean… do I like the things I do because I genuinely like them, or am I lying to myself because I never really had much of a choice?"  

 

"Everyone lies to themselves," Kisuke said.  "Some do it often, others more rarely, but eventually everyone does, at least once.  Acquiring a Soul Cutter, however, makes this a little trickier.  How can you keep up the ruse when you hold a living, breathing piece of your true self in your own two hands?"

 

It was a lesson he had learned the hard way, but one he knew Yoruichi had never had a genuine problem with.  He had yet to meet a person more aware of their wants and needs, more sure of who they truly were than Yoruichi, even if she occasionally doubted herself, like everyone else.

 

"Maya knows who you are," he said.  "Which means that _you_ know who you are.  You've known long before anyone ever told you who _they_ thought you were.  And in my experience, you never really listened to them, anyway.  You're the freest, most fearless person I have ever known."

 

Though he had meant for the speech to lift her spirits, perhaps even help her make a decision concerning her dilemma, what Kisuke had not expected was the amused grin that was now plastered on her face.

 

"What?" he said.

 

"I know you think you have a lot in common with my father, but do you know who you sounded like, just now?"

 

"Who?"

 

"My mother.  When she's heavily medicated, that is."

 

"……Pardon?"

 

It was undoubtedly the most outlandish thing he had ever heard, the notion that he had anything in common with Yoruichi's mother, other than a shared interest in the latter's well-being and happiness.  Unless he was very much mistaken, Lady Shihōin did not hold him in any particular regard, and would likely be horrified to hear that they had sounded remotely alike, even just once.

 

"Never mind," Yoruichi said, offering no more explanation on the _heavily medicated_ part.  "And don't think I didn't notice how you switched the discussion over to me," she said, then bent forward and snatched both the letter and the envelope of the Kidō Corps right from under his nose.

 

Kisuke tried to protest, but she set them both aside, and instead slipped the letter from the Thirteenth Division right in front of him.

 

"Learn to follow your own advice," she said.  "You know who you are, Kisuke.  It's time for everyone else to know, as well."  

 

* * *

 

 

**MARCH 23 RD, 128 B.H.I., SHIHŌIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

Fourteen months ago, the notion that he may one day dread crossing the brilliant white portcullis of the Shihōin Complex would've been inconceivable.  As much as he understood and shared Yoruichi's need to escape the stifling confines of their early upbringing, for Kisuke, life in the Shihōin Castle had nearly always been a source of joyful memories.

 

It was in these walls that he had learned the meaning of friendship, had watched his mother smile more in mere weeks than she had in decades, and it was there that he had met a mentor, a like mind, a man who had granted him the freedom to learn, to ask, to experiment to his heart's content.

 

A man whose trust he was about to betray in a very real, irreversible way. 

 

"Goodness, you look absolutely petrified," Lord Shihōin said, a throaty chuckle bubbling out of his chest as the two of them wandered across the estate grounds, his two guards following a respectful distance away.  "There is no need to be so worried, my boy; I have been expecting this conversation for some time now."

 

By now, Kisuke's visits to Lord Shihōin's study on a bimonthly basis were downright routine.  As such, when he had requested a formal audience a few days ago, he had fully expected his missive to elicit at least a modicum of surprise.  Instead of asking for any clarifications, however, Lord Shihōin had welcomed him upon arrival and had suggested they move their meeting outdoors.  Though his behavior had clued Kisuke in to the fact that the older man had formed at least an idea as to what would be discussed, Kisuke had been completely taken aback by the amiable tone.

 

"You… you have?"

 

Lord Shihōin crossed his arms behind his back, a lofty grin on his lips.  "Yoruichi received her offers nearly two weeks ago, which means you must have as well.  I can only assume they are numerous, given your overall academic performance: top of your class and a highly talked-about exhibition match.  They would be fools not to be scrambling for your attention," he said, turning to face him.  "And you would be a fool not to be at least considering some of them.  Am I close?"

 

He had expected no less from Yoruichi's father, but it was yet again the cordial smile that didn't quite fit with Kisuke's mental image of how this discussion was likely to unfold.  He had never allowed himself to forget that, for all his benevolence and generosity, his mentor was not a man who took kindly to even mild insubordination.  Though it wouldn't be the first time Kisuke would defy his Lord's wishes, it would be the first time he would dare to do so openly, all manner of deception set aside.

 

Kisuke had been prepared to defend himself from a number of well-deserved accusations, had mentally and verbally acted out all possible scenarios he could conceive.  The one possibility he was completely unprepared for was Lord Shihōin's disarming affability.  Could it be that he had worked himself up for nothing?

 

"As always, your deductive prowess is remarkable, sir," Kisuke said, returning the smile and bowing his head gently to Yoruichi's father.    

 

"I did not expect you to sit idly for twenty-eight years until you become of age, Kisuke," Lord Shihōin said.  "Joining the Thirteen, if only for a little while, would be highly beneficial for you.  If there is one drawback to joining the Kidō Corps, it's the isolation from the rest of the Thirteen, so cultivating as many influential relationships as you can beforehand is a wise choice."

 

_"If only for a little while..."_

_You fool._  

 

It took a great deal of restraint to keep from smiling ruefully at his own idiocy.  For a brief moment, he had permitted himself to indulge in the fantasy that his choice would have no unpleasant ramifications; it had been one moment too long.  Perhaps if he were a man of higher station, a man who had the luxury of falling back on the power of an important name, his insolence might have been tolerated, even forgiven.  As it were, he was treading on perilously thin ice, only one step away from making one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

 

_What are you doing?  What are you **doing**?  Stop this now, make up an excuse, **anything** —_

 

"Were you concerned I might object?" Lord Shihōin asked, his smile still good-natured.

 

"I…"

 

"Transferring between divisions is a much easier affair than transferring to the Kidō Corps," Lord Shihōin said.  "But you would not be the first, nor do I suspect the last to do so.  I would be more than happy to make the transition smoother for you, should it be within my power, when the time comes."

 

The voice that had so far been softly pleading him to reconsider turned desperate.  _Don't be a fool, don't be a fool, don'tbeafool…_

 

"Sir, you honor me.  But I… um… That is to say, I…"

 

His hesitation brought Lord Shihōin to a stop under the shade of a cherry tree.  The older man looked at him questioningly, eyebrows slightly arched.

 

Kisuke faced his mentor, understanding that if he chose to go through with his original plan, this was the moment to speak. 

 

The sensible thing was to come up with an excuse for his reluctance and forget all about this preposterous idea.  There were certainly more than enough compelling reasons to listen to common sense and accept his predetermined path: kidō research was a fascinating field, and his mother had worked hard for far too many years to ensure he even had such an option to consider.  Doing this would be a betrayal not only to Lord Shihōin, but to his mother's efforts as well.  

 

And yet every time he tried to picture himself as an officer of the Kidō Corps, the mere thought made his stomach clench uncomfortably, in a way it never had in the past.  _Because now I know what I would be giving up,_ he thought.  _Now I know what a true calling feels like.  And this would not be it._

 

As he took a deep breath in, preparing himself for the reality that after doing this, there was no turning back, he felt Benihime's strength flow through him, encouraging him.    

 

_No turning back._

 

Kisuke cleared his throat, forcing himself to look Lord Shihōin in the eye while he did this. "Please permit me to say," he said.  "That I am beyond grateful for your guidance, your tutelage and your immense generosity throughout all these years.  Were it not for you, I would not be half as successful as I have been in my short academic career.  You opened your home to me and my family, offered me opportunities that many would openly covet, and for that, I will be forever indebted to you and your House.  I would aspire to nothing more than to continue to serve you," Kisuke went on.  "In whichever capacity you deem fit.  But…" –Lord Shihōin's cordial expression shifted- "I… I have come to humbly announce that I… I would— I have made the decision to join the Thirteen Divisions.  Permanently."

 

_There._ _It's out.  It's done._

 

Lord Shihōin's face mostly registered astonishment.  Kisuke would not be surprised if he was one of the first, if not _the_ first, to openly challenge one of Lord Shihōin's wishes.  He had certainly never heard of such a past occurrence.  And perhaps the reason he had never heard of such a thing was an indication as to what happened to those who dared defy men like Lord Shihōin.  The sudden coldness in the older man's eyes now certainly hinted at such a possibility.    

 

Panic began to surge within Kisuke's body.  _What have you done, what have you **done**?_  "I would, _of course_ , make the Vault my number one priority," he hurried to say.  "That was never an iss—"

 

"Stop."

 

For all his and Yoruichi's discussions about what it meant to be nobility, of their disdain for the social divide, Kisuke didn't think he would ever be able to articulate to her just how much authority her voice alone carried, much like her father's.  Though she may occasionally doubt herself, she didn't have the faintest idea the power she had over people when she was confident and assertive.  It was a voice she had cultivated over the years without even realizing it, and while she may be ignorant of her own natural air of authority, her father was not. 

 

When this man spoke, he was fully aware that his voice carried within it the wisdom and power of a grand lineage, of the millennia that preceded him.  Kisuke could do nothing but obey, tight-lipped and increasingly aware of the fact that he had not even _begun_ to feel the full brunt of his mistake.

 

"In the interest of there being no misinterpretations," Lord Shihōin said.  "I am going to repeat what you said – that is my understanding of it- and you are going to confirm or deny, am I clear?"

 

Kisuke swallowed hard, nodding.      

 

"You are, essentially, saying that you have no intention of ever joining the Kidō Corps."

 

Kisuke understood this to be a chance to make this horrible situation marginally salvageable.  He knew that Lord Shihōin had understood his words perfectly, and he was offering him one last opportunity to take them back, to come to his senses.

 

His thoughts instantly strayed to his mother, to her warnings and efforts to open his eyes to the fact that, as Lord Shihōin's subject, there were certain realities that he simply had to accept.  He thought of Yoruichi, of _her_ efforts to convince him to follow the path that truly made his heart sing, and of Benihime, the one who had taught him best just how catastrophic it could be to lie to one's self. 

 

_No turning back._

 

"Yes, sir," Kisuke said, knowing that with these two simple words, he had sealed his fate.

 

Lord Shihōin's dark eyebrows came together, his brow creasing.  "Despite recognizing that any other option would be a waste of both your natural aptitude and all the resources that have been poured into honing that talent."

 

"I… With your permission, I would—"

 

"Yes or No, Kisuke?"

 

Kisuke could feel the cold sweat pooling in the small of his back, his nostrils flaring as he tried to steady his erratic breathing.  "No, sir.  I disagree.  And I humbly beg of you to allow me to explain—"

 

"Then we have nothing more to discuss."

 

"Sir?"

 

Lord Shihōin's dark eyes met with Kisuke's, and despite the former's finely-honed ability to wipe his mask clean of emotions, Kisuke was startled to see the disappointment evident in the man's eyes.  "Due to the folly of your youth, and the immense respect I still hold for your mother," Lord Shihōin said, his back straight and his posture rigid.  "I am going to allow you to walk away.  You are hereby released from your oath."

 

"Sir, please, I—"

 

"Never set foot in my abode ever again," he said, and without another word, he turned away and stalked past his two guards, giving them nothing more than a jerk of his head.

 

Kisuke became suddenly unaware of his own body, weightless and mentally absent as he was swiftly escorted out of the Shihōin estate, only realizing what had happened when the gate behind him shut with a deafening noise, never to open again. 

 

* * *

 

 

**MARCH 30 TH, 128 B.H.I., SPIRITUAL ARTS ACADEMY, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

In a sea of white, red and blue, Yoruichi searched for him, overwhelmed by the amount of unfamiliar faces surrounding her.  If there was one big drawback to early graduation, it was the fact that neither she nor Kisuke would get to share this milestone with the friends they'd made in the Academy, the people they had learned to work with as a team.

 

As the crowd filed out the of the Great Hall of the Academy, Yoruichi tried to make it to the exit, occasionally held back by instructors and other well-wishers who walked up to her to offer their congratulations.  After repeating the same cordial words for what felt like a thousand times, she was able to make it to the Quad, her eyes sweeping over the massive throng of visitors, students and graduates.

 

She found Kisuke standing by a lone tree out in the green fields, and with a smile, she hurried down the steps and across the Quad to reach him.

 

Kisuke pushed himself off the trunk of the tree when she approached, returning her smile.

 

"There you are!" she said, panting slightly.  "I lost you somewhere between the Director's speech and the damn farewell song."

 

"I figured meeting up outside was a safer bet," Kisuke said.  "Today was pretty mad, wasn't it?"

 

"Yeah, not even the endless rehearsals prepare you for it."    

 

Kisuke's eyes wandered somewhere beyond her head, and though he tried to hide it well, Yoruichi was able to see a muscle in his jaw tighten visibly.  "Looks like your parents are here," he said.

 

Yoruichi looked over her shoulder toward the direction her mother and father, both of whom were searching for her in the crowd.  "Yeaaaaah, there's an even crazier lunch waiting for me at the estate," she said, wincing slightly.  "The whole clan will be there.  Come say _Hi_ before we leave, my father probably wants to cong—"

 

"Oh, that's okay," Kisuke said, shaking his head.  "I'm sure they just want to get going—"

 

"Are you really going to deprive my father of the opportunity to brag about how his protégé just kicked the competition's collective ass?" Yoruichi said, grinning.  "His daughter being a _very_ close second, mind you."

 

Kisuke let out a gentle chuckle, his eyes seeking the ground.  "I just… I was thinking of getting back home…"

 

"Are you all right?" Yoruichi said, starting to feel she was missing something significant in the context of this conversation.  "You look a little…"

 

"I'm fine," Kisuke said, meeting her eyes again, a hint of sadness in his eyes.  "Just thinking about my mother, I guess…"

 

"Oh," Yoruichi said, suddenly feeling very stupid for not having considered the possibility.  Of course he would be thinking of his mother on a day like this, wishing she were there to cheer him on, to watch as he graduated with honors after a staggeringly successful two years.  "She would've been very proud of you.  You know that, right?"

 

"I do," Kisuke said, smiling at her.  "Enjoy your illustrious party.  Make sure you rub it all in Akira's face."

 

 _Oh, I definitely will,_ Yoruichi thought, chuckling.  "I'll see you tomorrow, maybe?" she said.  "Y'know… last hurrah before we become responsible almost-adults?"

 

Kisuke laughed, the darkness in his eyes thinning out.  "Absolutely.  Swing by any time you want," he said.  "And give my regards to your family."

 

Yoruichi watched him go, still feeling somewhat confused by their exchange.  As much as it made sense that he would be thinking of his mother and even wish to be alone right now, Yoruichi couldn't help but think that there was really no reason for him to be declining a simple greeting to her parents before going about his way.  On any other day, he would have readily done so himself, without the need to be prompted.

 

Shaking her head, Yoruichi made her way over to her parents, basking under the warmth of their compliments.  Subdued though they were, for them, such open praise was a rarity, and much to her surprise, the accolades kept coming all the way along the carriage ride back to the estate.

 

Walking down the Shihōin wing alongside her mother while her father excused himself to his study, Yoruichi stretched lazily, now feeling the full brunt of the stressful day affect her body.

 

"There is still time before the gathering," her mother said.  "Why don't you go rest your eyes a little, or perhaps take a bath?"

 

"Mmmm, I think I just might," Yoruichi said, smiling lazily at the thought of relaxing in the tub.  "How long is this _gathering_ supposed to last, by the way?"

 

Her mother gave her a stern, warning look.  "As long as it takes," she said.  "This is a celebration in _your_ honor, Yoruichi.  It is understandable if you are fatigued, which is why I suggested you rest in the first pl—"

 

"Okay, okay!" Yoruichi said.  "I was just asking!"

 

"Mmmm.  I trust we won't be having a similar conversation tomorrow?"

 

"What's tomorrow?"

 

"Commander Sasagawa is visiting the estate," her mother said.  " _Please_ do not tell me you have forgotten—"

 

"I haven't," Yoruichi said, rubbing her throbbing temple.  "I'm just tired, mother, of course I remember.  It's not for dinner, though, is it?" 

 

"Why would that be an issue?"

 

"I have plans tomorrow."

 

"Yoruichi—"

 

"Mother, come on, it's _one_ day," Yoruichi said, sighing.  "I think I deserve a one-day break, don't you?  It's not even a _full_ day, I would just like to keep my evening clear."

 

There was a very knowing look in her mother's eyes as she asked the next question.  "And I assume said evening would be spent in the company of Urahara Kisuke?"

 

 _Oh, for the love of—_ Hadn't they been over this, many decades ago?  Trying to put a permanent rift between her and Kisuke had failed spectacularly in the past, and after allowing them to attend the Academy together, Yoruichi had always assumed that her family had decided to accept their friendship for good, decided to start treating her like an adult, instead of a child.

 

"As a matter of fact," Yoruichi said, turning to face her mother, arms folded before her chest.  "Yes.  I'll be meeting with Kisuke.  My _friend_.  Is that a problem?"

 

Her mother came to a stop as well, letting out a sigh.  "I knew it.  You _were_ the one who instigated this, after all."

 

Face screwed up in confusion, Yoruichi replayed her mother's words in her head many times over, but they never made any sense.  "Instigated _what_?"

 

"I may not hold any particular affection for the boy," her mother said.  "But I must admit, even I was surprised that you would give such ill-advised counsel to someone you consider a friend.  He has neither the name nor the influence to stand behind after such an unabashed insult to this clan's honor."

 

" _Insult_?  What are you—?"

 

"You _are_ aware that he is joining the Thirteen Divisions?"

 

"Yes, of _course_ I am, I was the one who—" The words died on her lips as she made the mental connection between what she had been about to say and what her mother had implied just before.  Kisuke had made the decision to follow a different path after listening to _her_ advice.  "He… He spoke to father about this, didn't he?  He said he would."

 

"He did," her mother said.  "It did not go well."

 

 _Oh, no._   Kisuke's reluctance to greet her parents, his sour mood throughout the entire week— it all made sense now.

 

"Surely you did not expect the result to be any different?" her mother said.

 

"Result?" Yoruichi said.  "What… what happened?"

 

There was a crease in her mother's forehead, an expression close to sympathy.  "He is no longer under your father's employ.  Or in any way associated with our clan."

 

"I… but… _Why_?"

 

" _Why_?  Come now, Yoruichi, you cannot be this naïve—"

 

"Father was grooming him for work at the Vault, that's what he cares about!" Yoruichi said.  "Kisuke can still work there as a Soul Reaper; if anything, he'll have a _lot_ more freedom to do so than he would if he went into the Kidō Corps!  So what difference does it really make?"

 

"The _difference_ is that everyone in this world has their place.  Your father took that boy in under the implicit stipulation that he understood his.  One cannot pick and choose from the rules and expect to reap the full benefits," her mother said.  "If your father believed him joining the Thirteen Divisions would be a distraction, he ought to have listened."

 

Letting out an exasperated groan, Yoruichi turned on her heel, heading down the opposite direction of the corridor.

 

"Where are you going?" her mother called after her.

 

"To fix this."

 

"Yoruichi, do not cause a scene—"

 

"Mother, just…" Yoruichi said, raising one hand to stop her mother from following her as she marched down the hallway toward her father's study.

 

 _I have to fix this.  I **have** to.  _ She had known that her father wouldn't have been entirely pleased with Kisuke's choice, but Yoruichi had never expected him to react this way.  When advising Kisuke to follow through with this, she had thought her father would appreciate the courage it took for Kisuke to even broach the subject, like he had when _she_ had announced her plans to join the Academy.

 

 _But you are his daughter,_ said a nagging voice in the back of his head.  _His family.  And Kisuke is not._

 

Her heart and head pounding, Yoruichi knocked on the door of the study, ignoring the perplexed stares she received from the guards outside.

 

"Enter."

 

Yoruichi pushed the door open and stepped inside, finding her father sitting behind his desk, a smattering of documents laid out in front of him.

 

"Can we talk?" she said, coming to a stop before him, arms folded behind her back.

 

Setting down his brush, her father looked at her with a mixture of surprise and concern.  "Is something the matter, my dear?" he said. 

 

"I… I know about what happened between you and Kisuke," she said.  "What did you say to him?"

 

Her father paused for a moment, her words clearly unanticipated, before his expression turned sober.  He pushed himself up to his feet and walked around his desk, ambling over to her in slow, measured steps.  "Nothing quite as dramatic as what you heard, I'm sure."

 

"I didn't _hear_ anything," Yoruichi said, resenting the insinuation.  "Kisuke never said a word to me about this."

 

"What is it you _want_ , Yoruichi?"

 

However she might've imagined this conversation unfolding, Yoruichi never thought she would ever see her father react quite so irritably.  Even at his most furious, he was always dignified, always had control over his emotions.  It seemed both his falling out with Kisuke and this discussion was affecting him far more than he would ever admit.  

 

"The truth.  What did you say to him?  Why fire him?"

 

Her father was silent for a long time, lips pursed, shoulders rigid.  "We had an agreement."

 

"To _what_?  He can still work for you, what could it _possibly_ matter—?"

 

"It _matters_ when my word, my _name_ is taken for granted," her father said, and there was genuine anger in his eyes, the likes of which Yoruichi had never before seen as his voice thundered throughout the room.  "It _matters_ when someone in my employ takes advantage of my generosity and disrespects—"

 

It was his choice of words that did it.  He could have never known it, but her father had just struck a nerve, and he was about to be the recipient of many years' worth of resentment she had felt at the relationship that had developed between him and Kisuke.  And especially how that relationship had been used as leverage in the worst possible way.

 

"Takes ad—?  You want to talk about _taking advantage_?" Yoruichi said, her own voice raising a good few octaves and stunning her father into silence.  "Fine, then.  Let's talk about _you_ taking advantage of an impressionable, fatherless boy and his admiration of you to manipulate him into—"

 

"You go too far—"

 

"He _idolized_ you!  And you _knew_ it!  He's done _nothing_ but follow your instruction all his life, and now—"

 

"Oh, let us agree not to lie to each other, shall we?" her father said, his voice now shaking with barely suppressed rage.  "I think it has just become perfectly clear that he deviated from my _instruction_.  Perhaps one time too many."

 

Breath short from the heated exchange, Yoruichi panted, frowning at her father.  "What are you talking about?"

 

In a similarly breathless state, her father took to pacing about the room, very resolutely not looking at her as he spoke next.  "How long has the affair been going on?"

 

"The aff—?" Yoruichi began, letting out a scoff.  "Right, of _course_.  Because why else would I be incensed about this?"

 

"Answer me, Yoruichi," her father said warningly, bringing his irritable pacing to a halt as his eyes bore into hers.

 

More than ever, Yoruichi was immensely glad for her foresight in choosing not to confront Kisuke about the conversation she'd overheard between him and Kūkaku a year ago.  If her father had reacted this way to nothing more than a slight jab at his pride, there was no telling what he might've done if this so-called affair had been anything but a figment of his imagination.

 

"I'm not in a relationship with Kisuke, father," she said.  "At least not the kind _you're_ implying.  But he _is_ my friend, despite your best efforts to the contrary, I will not deny that.  If you don't believe me, you can have one of your many lackeys follow me around for a few weeks.  Certainly wouldn't be the first time."

 

She only caught a glimpse of his enraged expression before turning around, making her way toward the door.  She felt so furious that there was little stopping her from slamming the door in his face, but she had one last thing to say, one final morsel of bitterness to shape into words. 

 

"You made a huge mistake, casting him off like that," she said, turning to look at him over her shoulder.  "He was loyal to you in ways none of your other employees ever will be.  More importantly, you just lost your most valuable _asset_.  Because that's what really matters to you, isn't it?"

 

She didn't think it possible, but unless she was very much mistaken, Yoruichi had just managed to hurt her father deeply.

 

All vestiges of anger washed away from his face, only to be replaced with shock.  "Is that what you truly think of me?" he said, his voice once again unstable, but for entirely different reasons.

 

_Kisuke wasn't the only one who idolized you, you know. **I** did, too.  _

 

"That's what you proved with your actions.  Either that or your pride cannot suffer the blow of someone deviating from the _almighty plan_ , even a little."

 

Shrewd as ever, her father had no trouble reading between the lines.  "Are we still talking about Kisuke, here?"

 

Placing a hand against the door, Yoruichi clenched her jaw.  "You needn't worry.  I will not shirk my duties to the clan," she said.  "But it won't be because of _your_ wishes.  It will be because it's what _I_ want to do," she said, then shut the door behind her.

 

* * *

 

 

**MARCH 31 ST, 128 B.H.I., 3RD DISCTRICT MARKETPLACE, NORTHWEST RUKONGAI**

Ever since stepping foot outside his home, Kisuke had been trying to convince himself that the increased number of stares he drew as he walked the streets of the marketplace were only in his imagination.  His clothing was often the target of wandering eyes within Rukongai, instantly marking him as Other, but after having spent the past year living in the area, he had gradually blended into the environment, no longer a novelty.

 

It didn't take him long to realize that the reason for the renewed staring were the black Soul Reaper robes he had donned that night.  

 

Though he wouldn't become an official Soul Reaper until the following morning, his freshly tailored outfit was making its debut tonight, complete with weapon, as per Yoruichi's instructions.  Instead of meeting at his place, she had suggested they celebrate the start of the new chapter in their lives at Okada's, their favored hangout in the five-district area.      

 

Kisuke made his way down the lantern-lit streets of the marketplace, relieved to see that the closer he got to the pub district, the fewer attention he drew to himself.  It seemed that that the amount of stares was inversely proportional to the blood alcohol percentage of the average passerby.  His theory was confirmed when he found himself easily weaving through groups of giggling friends, people far too concerned with putting one foot before the other to pay any attention to what he wore.

 

He felt Yoruichi's essence somewhere in the vicinity and hurried his pace, his eyes sweeping the streets in search of her.  While observing the crowd, his gaze lingered for a moment on a very pretty short-haired girl before he walked on ahead, searching for a sign of Yoruichi whom he could feel was close-by.  The girl's highly thought-provoking outfit was still in his mind, when his brain took the necessary couple of seconds to reconcile what it had just registered with what he could feel in the air.

 

Stopping dead on his tracks, hands in his pockets, Kisuke took a few steps backwards, then looked to his left, and over to the short-haired girl.

 

One foot braced against the wall she was leaning against, arms folded behind her back, Yoruichi met his gaze, a smirk gracing her lips as she visibly struggled not to laugh. 

 

Though perfectly aware that he was openly gawking at her, Kisuke was unable to force his jaw back up, or his eyebrows to their regular position while he took in her appearance.  Her long mane of hair was long gone and she now sported a dramatically shorter cut.  The few, longest tendrils of hair hung to the front down to chin-length, while the rest of the haircut got progressively shorter toward her nape.  She wore the standard uniform of the Onmitsukidō Correction Corps, a black turtleneck undershirt, white kosode with narrow sleeves, white obi over which she had slung a black belt holding Maya's sheath, but she had made one significant, eye-popping alteration: instead of wearing the form-fitting black hakama that came with the uniform, she had chosen instead to wear a pair of black jika-tabi.  Kisuke wasn't even aware they came in a long variation, especially not one that reached about mid-thigh.

 

The overall result was… interesting.

 

Pursing her lips and looking very amused with his undoubtedly dumbfounded expression, Yoruichi shrugged gently.  "Well?"

 

Finally becoming a little self-conscious about how ridiculous he must've looked, Kisuke turned to face her fully, smiling at her.  "You cut your hair."

 

"Kept getting in the way."

 

Kisuke nodded.  "Looks great."  His compliment was genuine, though he had to admit, between the two haircuts, he was definitely partial to her older one.

 

"Thank you," she said, the smirk never leaving her face.

 

He knew she was waiting for a compliment on her outfit, or a comment at the very least, but to be perfectly honest, the only sort of comment that came to mind when taking in her new look was an unintelligible gurgle that held little resemblance to any known words.  

 

In an effort to defuse the tension, Kisuke decided to just acknowledge the elephant in the room, albeit in his own way.  Forehead creased in a scowl, he pointed at himself, feigning exasperation.  "So, what, you're not even going to _comment_ on my outfit?"

 

It had the desired effect: Yoruichi laughed heartily, then pushed herself off the wall as she gave him the one-over.  "Black suits you.  Goes with your pasty complexion," she said.

 

"Well aren't you sweet," Kisuke said wryly, eliciting another chuckle from her.

 

He gave a little jerk of his head toward the direction of the pub district and they set off, making their way down the crowded street.   

 

"So…" Kisuke said after a long bout of silence.  "You decided to go for the Correction Corps."

 

Yoruichi arched an eyebrow at him – _Yeah, that's **all** you're gonna get me to say on your outfit-_ then nodded.  "I had a talk with Commander Sasagawa yesterday and we made it official.  My parents are… not pleased," she said, but she didn't appear to be the least bit concerned by that fact.

 

"Your father I understand, but I was under the impression your mother doesn't really get involved with Onmitsukidō business?" Kisuke said.

 

"Oh, _she's_ salty about the hair.  I come back home and she immediately goes apoplectic upon sight of me; at one point, I swear, only dogs could hear her," Yoruichi said, grinning as Kisuke laughed out loud at her words.  "She's made it clear she is _never_ forgiving me."

 

Their new outfits continued to be the topic of conversation even as they took their seats in an outdoor table at Okada's.  Their regular server insisted that, in honor of their graduation, first round was on the house, courtesy of Mr. Okada himself.  Yoruichi indulged Kisuke by having exactly one cup of sake, before switching to her regular choice of green tea for the rest of the night.  For once, Kisuke chose to follow her lead after the first bottle was empty, wary of showing up drunk for his very first day at the Thirteenth Division's barracks, or worse, not showing up at all. 

 

"I've been thinking about what you said," Yoruichi said.

 

By then, their night out was drawing to a close, half-empty plates of their dinner leftovers scattered on the table, their glasses holding some last few dregs of green tea.  Yoruichi folded her arms atop the table, resting her chin on her joined hands, the soft yellow light of the lanterns above glistening off her dark hair. 

 

Kisuke looked at her questioningly, cheek resting against his fist.

 

"About… freedom," she said.  "I don't think— I… I guess I try, but certain things…"

 

"You do try."

 

Yoruichi pursed her lips.  "I'm not quite _there_ yet.  Where I'd like to be.  But one day… I might," she said, her eyes flitting up to meet his.

 

Kisuke smiled at her, hoping that indeed, one day, she could have the best of both worlds, the kind of future she truly deserved.  That she would find the balance between freedom and honoring her family's legacy.

 

If anyone could, it was undoubtedly her. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When planning this chapter, there were two additional scenes (an extended scene of Yoruichi testing Fleshy and the end-of-year exhibition tournament at the Academy) which ended up on the cutting board, as I realized they were only going to bog down the chapter and didn't really serve much of a purpose (other than me having fun, that is). Generally speaking, I try to include only scenes that either further character development or the plot (or both), but this means that I often end up with little ideas that I ache to put on paper and never get to. 
> 
> So last night, I was thinking that I might consider uploading such 'deleted scenes' on a separate story. It could even work on a request basis, as in: "Hey, you alluded to so-and-so in chapter X, but we never got to see it. What was that all about?" What do you guys think? Let me know, and if there's enough interest, I'll set up a request system, of sorts, (probably on tumblr, with anonymous requests enabled) to get it going. 
> 
> Moving on… There will be no present segment for the next chapter (perhaps even the one after that). Not to worry, they'll be making a return soon enough, and I promise that I'll make the next two chapters worth your while… which is all I'm saying on that matter. *nudgenudgewinkwink* 
> 
> But going back to the present scenes, as I'm sure you've noticed, there has been a pretty big jump, chronologically speaking. It's not that I don't think there isn't enough material to explore in those missing years, but rather that I have SO many scenes shortly before and around Ichigo's era to cover, that I'm going to run out of chapters if I don't pick up the pace. The good news is that I'll be able to start using many more canon characters in both the present and the past (the Captains! Isshin! Rukia! Ichigo!), along with my Visored babbies, all of whom are currently scattered around the ranks of the Gotei, waiting for their respective cameos.
> 
> Speaking of the Gotei… I'm not sure I ever mentioned it here in my author's notes (I know I did on tumblr), but the decision to have Kisuke join the Thirteenth Division has a lot to do with Ukitake and his mysterious access to that one Shihōin artifact that made the Sōkyoku go kablooey (see my tumblr notes on chapter 3 for more details). Kisuke will, of course, transfer to the Second Division in due time, but for now he'll be a part of Ukitake's group, because who doesn't love Ukitake? <3


	11. Apotheosis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't find a military hierarchy that corresponds exactly to what we're given in canon for the Onmitsukidō, so the lesser ranks used here are a bit of a mish-mash from various sources. The whole thing is up on tumblr if you wanna take a look.
> 
> A psychological evaluation takes place in the second scene, and while psychology did exist at the time, it was not as advanced as its modern counterpart. I tried to keep it simple, so I hope you'll excuse the anachronisms. This scene also gave me the most trouble out of the whole chapter (can't for the life of me figure out why), so instead of the boring crap it originally was, I went for something a little different, format-wise. Hopefully you'll enjoy it and not find it gimmicky. 
> 
> There is also a bit of real-life history thrown in this instalment. When researching the state of Japan in the 1773-1776 period, I came across certain political circumstances in Nagasaki that were far too tempting to ignore. There are many cultural notes already, so look to a comprehensive segment on tumblr for this part. My sincerest apologies to the memories of the real-life officials and other people I used to my heart's content in this chapter (Wikipedia had their actual names, I couldn't resist!)
> 
> There are four planned major moments in this story I've been most looking forward to writing. Milestones, if you will, either character or plot-related. This chapter, along with its companion, the next one, is the first of the four. Enjoy.
> 
> Cultural notes:
> 
> Chabudai: A short-legged table used as a study table, dinner table or what have you. Which means I dun goofed when I kept describing such tables in previous chapters as kotatsu, because the kotatsu is a far more modern invention, specifically designed to also serve as a heating device. I'll go back and edit this as soon as I can. 
> 
> Ayako: Japanese female first name. Depending on the kanji used, it can mean either color, design, or kimono design (aya), and child (ko). Here it's spelled 絢子, meaning 'kimono design child.' The reason for this choice will become pretty obvious once you get to the use of the name in-chapter.
> 
> "Tsuppane, Benihime": The fourth of Benihime's known shikai abilities, which translates into 'Spurn.' It's the move Kisuke uses against Yammy to nullify his attack. Note that while it's the fourth one revealed in canon, in my story, it's only the third one Kisuke has unlocked, after Nake and Chikasumi no Tate (the shield).
> 
> Soul Sleep/Binding Chain: The two focal points of the body for Soul Reaper powers. The Soul Sleep is the source, and the Binding Chain the boost to spiritual power. They are mentioned when Byakuya first fights Ichigo, leaving him (temporarily) powerless. Given where he strikes Ichigo, I assumed that the two spots are in the abdomen and the middle of the chest, respectively. 
> 
> Gaten/Hōten: Ukitake mentions these two medical substances when Yoruichi knocks out Ichigo to keep him from engaging Byakuya at the bridge. There is no further explanation given, other than the fact that they're both tranquilizers.

**APRIL 1 ST, 128 B.H.I., THIRTEENTH DIVISION BARRACKS, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

"…sign here aaaaand here."

 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Kisuke shut his bleary eyes, sighing.  

 

Just the other day, a comprehensive schedule of his first day in service of the Thirteen had arrived by mail.  One particular detail had immediately jumped out at him: the explicit instructions to report to the barracks at 6 am, when orientation wasn't meant to begin until 10.

 

It was all becoming crystal clear now.

 

If he had to use a single phrase to summarize his day so far, it would be  _Hurry up and wait._ Joining the Thirteen Divisions entailed a staggering amount of paperwork, as it turned out.  He had spent his morning having senior officers bark at him to get moving, only to arrive at the end of yet another serpentine line of new recruits, all carrying the same beleaguered air about them.    

 

Things had started going south from early on, when he had been ordered to report to the infirmary.  After his spiritual signature had been recorded, he had spent a full hour being poked and prodded in an exhaustive array of medical examinations.  Once declared healthy he was sent about his merry way. 

 

And knee-deep into bureaucratic Hell.

 

Hurry up, wait in line, fill in a stack of forms.  Repeat ad nauseam for two torturous hours, as he registered his weapon, had  _her_  spiritual signature recorded, then registered for board and usage of the many dojos spread throughout the Division grounds.  He had signed his name so many times that the ideograms no longer resembled words. 

 

Inside the cramped administration office, under the collective glares of the long line of recruits behind him, Kisuke sped through the last batch of paperwork.   A lanky, bespectacled clerk sat behind the overlarge desk.  Head propped up on his fist, he gazed down at the paper before Kisuke, his eyes glazed over.  He had long ago lost interest in giving any instructions, but it mattered little now.  

 

One last form concerning living quarters, and Kisuke would be done for good.  He had hoped this might be an optional procedure for someone already in possession of a primary residence, but alas, being assigned a room was evidently mandatory.  Unless on leave, all members of a Division were required to be within reachable distance.  Still he wasn't about to complain.  Not when light was finally,  _finally_  making its shy appearance at the end of the tunnel.  

 

He was one step, one single kanji away from freedom, when the slam of a palm upon the form shook the whole desk.  Kisuke started, glancing up just as the clerk –his eyes now perfectly focused- slid the paper over to his side. 

 

"Aw shiiiiiit… You're an  _officer_?" the clerk said, looking at Kisuke as though he had personally insulted his entire family.

 

"Er… Yes?" Kisuke said, his stomach sinking.  A fat droplet of ink free-fell off his aloft brush, staining the oak desk.

 

"Why didn't you tell me you were a transfer, man?" the clerk said, sighing.  "That's a whole different fo—"

 

"Not a transfer," Kisuke said in a rush.  "I'm new."

 

"Oh… Well good," the clerk said.  Then promptly crumpled up the paper, along with Kisuke's hopes and dreams of escaping this purgatory.  

 

"You  _just_  said—!"

 

"It's good 'cause we don't have to start  _all_  over," the clerk said.  He leaned back in his chair, stretching to reach for the filing cabinet behind him.  "Still need a different form for the actual room registration.  Officer Quarters are separate from the rest."

 

A loud, collective groan rose up from the recruits first in line after Kisuke.  It was closely followed by a ripple of whispers, as those farther down the queue tried to piece together what had just happened.  

 

"Hey, man, it's not my fault," the clerk said, addressing the recruits who were starting to complain for the delay.  "Tell it to Mr. Overachiever, here."

 

 _Well_ ** _that_** _oughta make me popular._  

 

Feeling the penetrating gazes of thirty or so people make a sieve out of his back, Kisuke ventured a cautious look over his shoulder.  "Hi."  They did not look like they were in a forgiving mood. 

 

As the clerk went about fishing out a new form, Kisuke decided to stop fretting and just accept his fate.  A few extra minutes wouldn't kill him, and there was plenty to entertain himself with as he waited.  Namely picturing Yoruichi's reaction, if she'd heard that he had just been called an overachiever. 

 

Her own first day in the Onmitsukidō was likely far more hectic, but he would have no way of knowing for another fortnight.  They had met up for an early breakfast that morning, and to his surprise, had shown up in all black, looking put off.  Apparently, she wouldn't be able to don her new uniform for a while, not until she had completed the new recruit boot camp.  Two weeks of no outside contact, little rest, and a training program so rigorous and psychologically taxing, it would make seasoned Soul Reapers openly weep in despair.

 

On second thought, perhaps it wasn't the best of ideas to complain over his bureaucratic woes, or  _anything_  whatsoever, when they would be exchanging first day stories in a couple of weeks.

 

"Aaaand  _done_ ," the clerk said, when Kisuke filled in the last few fields of the form.  "Oh and, since you're an officer, you need to head over to Lieutenant Matsuo's office before orientation."

 

"Where is—?"

 

"Out the corridor, down to the left, second door on your right."

 

"Thank you."

 

Free at last from queues and other tedious minutiae, Kisuke hightailed down the corridor to the Lieutenant's office.  He gave the door a discreet rap, and waited until he heard Matsuo's voice granting him entry from within.  He slid the door open, stepping inside.

 

Matsuo Megumi's workplace was significantly larger than the registration office had been.  Much like her own appearance, it was meticulous to a fault, clean and ordered.  No books out of place in the bookcase behind her or otherwise strewn about, paperwork neatly stacked in small, manageable piles on the desk, and a few choice pieces of artwork decorating the walls. 

 

She looked up from her work as soon as he entered, a genial smile on her lips.  "There you are, Urahara," she said, getting up.  "Just in time."

 

"Lieutenant," Kisuke said, bowing to her as she approached.

 

"Matsuo will do," she said, returning the gesture.  "I was very pleased to see you accepted our offer.  I'm looking forward to working with you."

 

"As am I," Kisuke said.

 

"We are not waiting on anyone else," she said, heading for the door.  "So we'd better get going; need to check this off the list before your orientation begins."  She led Kisuke out into the corridor again, then began making her way farther down.  "Since you're our newest senior officer, I wanted you to meet the Captain first," she said.  "Mind you, it won't be a long visit.  Captain Ukitake is often indisposed, but today happened to be one of his better days.  I figured I'd schedule you in."

 

Some anxiety aside —Captain Ukitake was a living legend after all- Kisuke was glad for Matsuo's initiative.  Despite her own undoubtedly heavy workload, she had been courteous enough to make some time for him.  She was clearly used to running a tight ship, even on a day as frantic as today.

 

"Thank you, Matsuo," Kisuke said, following her along the way.

 

Matsuo came to a stop at the end of the corridor.  "When you're done, head back to the Head Administration office for orientation.  You remember where it is?"

 

Kisuke nodded.  "I do."

 

"Good.  Go on, then," she said, motioning toward the door, then returned to her office in a brisk, but measured pace.

 

Kisuke took a deep breath in, readying himself for the meeting, and knocked on the door.

 

"Enter."

 

As the shōji doors split open, Kisuke was greeted by the sight of Captain Ukitake sitting behind a narrow, rectangular chabudai teeming with paperwork.  Though his office was outfitted with a far bigger desk, complete with a heaving bookcase and a specifically designated seating area for guests, the Captain seemed to be more comfortable on the floor.  Contrary to Lieutenant Matsuo's office, his was littered with plants and assorted knick-knacks laid out on the many cabinets and tables.  The overall result wasn't cluttered, but rather had a cozy, careworn feel to it. 

 

Over his robes, the Captain wore a thick winter haori slung across his shoulders.  He looked pale, having recently recovered from an illness according to Matsuo, but otherwise appeared to be well-disposed.  He set the cup he had been holding down by an elegant, ceramic kettle, then turned to his visitor.  

 

Kisuke took a few steps in, immediately falling down on one knee, facing the pristine tatami mats.  "Urahara Kisuke, Fifth Seat Officer, reporting for duty, sir."

 

"Ah, Urahara.  I was expecting you," the Captain said in an affable tone.  "Please, do come in."

 

Kisuke raised his head off the floor and gave the Captain a nod.  "Thank you.  It is an honor to meet you, Captain Ukitake."  He closed the shōji behind him and hastened forward.

 

"Take a seat," Captain Ukitake said with a smile, motioning at the pillow on the other side of the chabudai.  "Might I offer you some green tea?"

 

"That would be welcome, thank you, sir," Kisuke said as he sat down across him.

 

It hadn't been immediately noticeable upon entry, but sitting barely an arm's reach away from Captain Ukitake, Kisuke could now fully appreciate it, the quiet strength humming within the frail body.  He knew the Captain was actively keeping his immense spiritual pressure under control, and Kisuke couldn't help but envy the ease that came with centuries of practice.  To Captain Ukitake, a task like this was effortless, as natural and subconscious as breathing.

 

What caught Kisuke's attention as the Captain went about pouring him a cup of tea, was that the man's loose hair wasn't grey, as Kisuke had always assumed, but pure, uniform white, coming in stark contrast with his pitch-black eyebrows.  It made for an odd combination, especially on someone so youthful-looking.

 

The Captain pushed the steaming cup toward Kisuke, then reached for the top folder on his pile of paperwork, laying it open before him.  "Now then…" he said, his green eyes skimming over what Kisuke could now see was his personal file.  "Urahara Kisuke, one hundred and seventy two, graduated from the Academy with honors in only two years.  Very impressive."

 

"Thank you, Captain."

 

"Excellent kidō skills, I see," he said.  "But Megumi also tells me your hand-to-hand practical was quite a spectacle.  I am sorry I missed it; her report mentions you gave Shihōin Yoruichi a run for her money.  That tells me all I need to know."

 

Through the spiraling steams emanating off the cup, Kisuke met the Captain's dazzling smile and felt the back of his neck grow warmer.   _Good grief.  I_ ** _totally_** _get it now,_  he thought.  His former classmates' wolfish grins, the yearning looks, the saccharine proclamations of love over the striking Captain: they all finally made sense.

 

"It says here your primary residence used to be the Shihōin Estate.  You're not related, are you?"

 

The unexpected reminder of his alienation with Lord Shihōin had an instantly sobering effect, driving all distracting thoughts away from Kisuke's mind.

 

"No, sir" he said in a croak, trying to keep his watering eyes in check after taking a sip of scalding tea.  "My mother was councilwoman to Lord Shihōin Ken'ichi.  We relocated from our old home when she was hired, and lived there up until her passing last year."

 

"Oh?" said the Captain, glancing down at Kisuke's file again.  "Urahara Kaede?  You know, I do believe I met her once, during a visit to the estate.  You have my condolences."

 

Kisuke remembered the incident all too well.  To his amusement, he also remembered foolishly thinking at the time that Captain Ukitake was most likely newly inducted, and not awfully talented.  "I appreciate that, Captain."

 

"Highly gifted Soul Reaper," Captain Ukitake said.  "I can see where you inherited your prowess in kidō from.  A shame she didn't follow up her studies with a career in the Thirteen.  It seems your father did, though:  Third Division.  Well then," he said, closing the file shut and setting down his cup.  Hands resting upon the surface of the table, the Captain joined his fingers together.  "Yours is a promising resume, Urahara."

 

"Thank you, sir.  I look forward to serving you and the Thirteenth Division."

 

"Your contribution will be very much welcome," the Captain said, his former genial expression giving way to a far more strained one.  "I am sorry to say that you are joining us at a particularly trying period.  I assume you're well aware of the current state of affairs regarding the Quincies?"

 

Was he, ever.  "Yes, Captain," Kisuke said.  "With your permission… There have been rumors, claiming we're headed toward a serious conflict.  May I ask if there's any truth to them?"

 

"I'm afraid it is no longer a question of if, but a question of when.  Negotiations have not worked in our favor."

 

"I see."

 

"I am not unsympathetic to the plight of the Quincies," Captain Ukitake said.  "Their defenses against our shared enemy are meager when compared to our own.  But they have failed to acknowledge the damage they are causing to the balance of the worlds, and we cannot afford to allow the pain of a few direct the future of many."

 

"I agree, sir."

 

"As I said, you have joined us at a troubling time," the Captain said.  "I suspect it won't be long before we're forced to take drastic measures to prevent a catastrophe.  To that end, I do hope you'll prove to be as remarkable in action as you are on paper."  Tearing his gaze away for a moment, the Captain glanced at the clock on the wall above his desk.  "Unfortunately, we must cut this short.  I chose a highly inconvenient time to fall ill, and need to tend to a number of pressing matters that came up during my absence."

 

"Of course, sir," Kisuke said, setting his cup down and rising up to his feet.  "I'll take my leave."

 

"It was a pleasure, Urahara.  Welcome to the Thirteenth Division."

 

Kisuke fell into a deep bow.  "Captain," he said, then exited the office.  

 

Walking down the corridor, he could feel Benihime growing heavier against his hip.  A ripple went through the blade, one that escaped the confines of her sheath and reverberated all throughout him, as his companion made no effort to conceal her exhilaration over the latest news.   

 

 

* * *

 

 

\----------------  Page _1_ of _9_   ---------------- 

 

**ONMITSUKIDŌ CANDIDATE ASSESSMENT FORM**

 

 **FAMILY NAME:** Shihōin

 **GIVEN NAME:** Yoruichi

 **AGE:** 172

 **WEIGHT:** 40 kgs

 **HEIGHT:** 156 cms

 

 **Preliminary Evaluation:** _Recruit was top scorer in entrance examinations.  Peak physical condition, with small weakness in throwing technique.  Recommended training from ground up to correct form._

 

\----------------  Page _3_ of _9_   ---------------- 

 

 **Overall Physical Assessment:** _Recruit displayed remarkable skill on all four disciplines.  Commendable stamina, exceptional resilience.  Performed admirably in teamwork scenarios on both roles, though more comfortable in leadership position.  Commendable leadership skills, with few marked incidents of questionable behavior (see page 2, par 4; page 2, par 7).  Commendable strategic skills, exceptional adaptability._

**Hand-to-hand Combat:  (1)** _Exceptional_

 **Flash Stepping:               (1)** _Exceptional_

 **Weapon Mastery:            (2)** _Commendable.Marked aptitude for small weapons.  Recommended referral to Instructor Ueda for more thorough training._  

 **Kidō Mastery:                 (1)** _Excellent. Exceptional control, commendable creativity, excellent range, exceptional effectiveness._   

 

 **Additional Notes:** _Slightly underweight, recommended weight gain of 2-5 Kgs._

 

\----------------  Page _5_ of _9_   ---------------- 

 

 **SDT (Sleep Deprivation Training) Assessment:** _Recruit completed SDT course in full.  Reported microsleep episodes began to occur on the fifty third (53) hour mark.  Resorted to non-recommended methods to maintain alertness, though reported incidents were few.  Commendable self-control well into the sixty ninth (69) hour mark, with few incidents of note (see INDEX B for full transcript of post-SDT evaluation)._   

 

 **Stamina:                        (1)** _Exceptional (see attached document on page 6 for pre and post-SDT physical examination)_

 **Mental Acuity:               (1)** _Excellent._

 **Memory Retention:        (1)** _Excellent (see INDEX B for full transcript of post-SDT evaluation and attached document on page 7 for examination scores)_

 **Self-Control:                 (2)** _Commendable_

 **Responsiveness:           (2)** _Commendable_

 **Astereognosis Test:**        **Passed**

 

 **Overall Mental Assessment:** _Recruit performed exceptionally under stress in many given scenarios.  Displayed mental acuity even at the latest stages of SDT course.  Was the only recruit to reach the seventy two (72) hour mark displaying acceptable responsiveness._

 

\----------------  Page _9_ of _9_   ---------------- 

 

**INDEX B**

**POST-SDT MENTAL EVALUATION**

**_Full Transcript_ **

 

 **Initial Assessment:**   _Recruit entered the examination room displaying characteristic signs of impaired hand-eye coordination.  Movement was slow but acceptably steady.  Eye focus was highly erratic, though notably not entirely absent.  Recruit assumed semi-upright sitting position, with a marked tendency to hold on to left arm._

**_[START OF SESSION]_ **

**PHYSICIAN:** Have a seat, please.  I am under obligation to inform you that this evaluation is being transcribed _[physician indicates one of two assisting nurses]._   Shall we begin?

 **RECRUIT:** _[recruit nods]_

 **PHYSICIAN:** So… Seventy hours.  You seem to be holding up relatively well.  How are you feeling?

 **RECRUIT:** _[recruit focuses eyes on physician and lowers voice]_ How am I _feeling_?  Are you _kidding_ me you, you [unintelligible]? You wanna know how—I want to tackle you and [unintelligible] with that tacky kettle and then I'm going to yank the handle off and jam it up your [censored] that's how I'm [censored] feeling.  

**_[recruit does not appear to realize she has spoken out loud]_**

**RECRUIT:** _[in normal register voice]_ Fine.

 **PHYSICIAN:** No hallucinations?

 **RECRUIT:** _[recruit visibly hesitates]_

**_[recruit experiences episode of microsleep]_ **

**PHYSICIAN:** Officer?

**_[recruit awakens displaying minor disorientation]_ **

**PHYSICIAN:** You fell asleep for a few seconds there.

 **RECRUIT:** No hallunations.  Hallunic— Hallucinations.

 **PHYSICIAN:** Microsleep episodes are inevitable by this stage.  But you remained upright, that is good.  Can you please repeat the word you were asked to memorize before the start of the session?

 **RECRUIT:** _[recruit frowns, presumably in thought]_

 **PHYSICIAN:** Take your time.

 **RECRUIT:** _[long pause]_ Sardonic.

 **PHYSICIAN:** Very good.   _[physician lowers voice]_   How is your hearing?

 **RECRUIT:** Fine.

 **PHYSICIAN:** _[in low voice still]_ Please repeat this list: dagger, kettle, kimono, glass.

 **RECRUIT:** Dagger.  Kettle.  _[short pause]_ Kimono, glass.

 **PHYSICIAN:** _[in normal register again]_ I'd like to talk about this incident that occurred on April 5 th.  During a team exercise, a peer accused of –and I quote- _'coasting by on your name.'_

 **RECRUIT:** Yes?

 **PHYSICIAN:** You were quite visibly angered at the accusation.

 **RECRUIT:** I was leading.  Any conc— corn— _[recruit shuts eyes momentarily]_

 **PHYSICIAN:** Concerns?

 **RECRUIT:** —Yes.  Concerns should be voiced at the end.  I was not endangering the… the mission.  But his challenging me would have.

 **PHYSICIAN:** You do not believe there was any merit to the accusation?

 **RECRUIT:** No.  Nor did the rest of my team.

 **PHYSICIAN:** Is there something you would have done differently in retrospect?

 **RECRUIT:** Not have let it get to me.  Would still shut him down. 

 **PHYSICIAN:** Is there perhaps another incident throughout your training that you feel you handled poorly?

 **RECRUIT:** _[recruit frowns, presumably in thought]_ Infiltration.  On the… _[short pause]_ ninth day.  Should have broken up team in two, not three.  With better time… timing we could've completed it faster.

 **PHYSICIAN:** What do you feel is your greatest weakness?

**_[recruit experiences episode of microsleep]_ **

**PHYSICIAN:** Officer?

**_[recruit awakens displaying minor disorientation]_ **

**RECRUIT:** My…?

 **PHYSICIAN:** Your greatest weakness.

 **RECRUIT:** Stubborn.

 **PHYSICIAN:** In what sense?

 **RECRUIT:** Not letting go easily.  Even when I should.

 **PHYSICIAN:** I see.  _[physician takes notes]_ Place your dominant arm to the side, please.

 **RECRUIT:** _[recruits lowers right arm]_

 **PHYSICIAN:** Now, without looking down, I'd like you to give me the name and describe the purpose of the object you will be handed.

**_[recruit is handed a key by assistant nurse]_ **

**RECRUIT:** _[recruit paws the object, frowning] [long pause]_ Opens doors.  The purpose.

 **PHYSICIAN:** Very good.  And the object's name?

 **RECRUIT:** Cal— _[recruit shuts eyes tightly]_ Key.  Key.

 **PHYSICIAN:** Excellent.

**_[assistant nurse retrieves the key]_ **

**PHYSICIAN:** _[physician pauses while watching recruit]_ Are you digging your nails into your arm?

 **RECRUIT:** Yes.

 **PHYSICIAN:** Please stop, you're bleeding.  Nurse, could we…? _[physician indicates recruit]_

**_[evaluation continues while assistant nurse is providing first aid]_   **

**PHYSICIAN:** Your overall memory retention over the course of this training has been quite stellar.  I see here your written examination scores were higher than what might be expected past the 48 hour mark.  Excellent mental acuity, too.  I see, however, that there might be room for improvement concerning self-control.  Do you agree?   

 **RECRUIT:** Guess so.

 **PHYSICIAN:** You look angry.

 **RECRUIT:** Tired.  Harder to… _[recruit gestures vaguely]_   Better when I'm rested.

 **PHYSICIAN:** I do believe that.  Though I was not referring to the Sleep Deprivation training alone.

 **RECRUIT:** _[recruit clenches fists then nods after pause]_

 **PHYSICIAN:** If there is one aspect of your character you could improve upon, what would it be?

 **RECRUIT:** Stubborn.  Already answered.

 **PHYSICIAN:** Excuse me?

 **RECRUIT:** Same question before.  You respaced… phrase… Different words.

 **PHYSICIAN:** Well-spotted.  _[physician takes notes]_ This concludes our session.  Please wait outside to be escorted to your final physical evaluation, after which your sleep deprivation training course will be complete.

 **RECRUIT:** Thank you.  _[recruit leaves the examination room]_

**_[END OF SESSION]_ **

 

* * *

 

**APRIL 15 TH, 128 B.H.I., CORRECTIONS COPRS DORMITORIES, ONMITSUKIDŌ COMPLEX, COURT OF PURE SOULS – 10 PM**

 

There was something slick and wet below her cheek.  Both the sensation and the smell was unpleasant, and Yoruichi groaned, pushing herself away from the wet spot.  Rolling onto her back, she swept a lock of hair away from the sticky corner of her mouth, then reached up to soothe her throbbing temple with one hand.

 

_Ughhhhhhhhhh..._

 

Her stinging eyes were greeted with thick darkness as she slid them open, and it was then that her body acted of its own accord.   _First Call.  Did I miss it?  Fuck, **fuck** ,  **why**  didn't anyone wake me up?_  Sitting up on her futon in a rush, she began to yank her top off, only to find a piece of paper shoved up against her nose when she tried to pull the top over her head.

 

_The hell…?_

 

Pulling her clothes down again, she conjured up a small sphere of light, trying to get her bearings.  The first thing she noticed was that she was  _not_  in the boot camp barracks, but in a vaguely familiar room.  Looking down to her chest, she saw the piece of paper that had brushed up against her face just a moment ago.  Someone had pinned it to her chest.  She tugged it free, holding it up under the light of the sphere, her eyes squinting.    

 

_your okaY boot camp over.  SLEeP_

 

 _Your okay? **Your**?_   Good grief, if she didn't already recognize her own –albeit messy- handwriting, she would be wondering who had left this message for her. 

 

The sight of the note brought forth a salvo of memories, and Yoruichi slowly began to piece together the timeline of events.  The first eleven days of physical training had lived up to her expectations: exhausting, challenging, but not nearly as onerous as the mental training had been.  The last three days of the program were dedicated entirely to Sleep Deprivation Training, which was around the time Yoruichi's recall began to falter.

 

She had very little memory of what had transpired after the end of the first day, and she had absolutely no recollection of being brought back to the Onmitsukidō grounds, away from the undisclosed location of the boot camp.  At some point she had obviously penned this note, knowing she would have trouble with disorientation upon waking up.  

 

 ** _Your._** _Just how tired was I?_   The gigantic saliva spot on her pillow –for now she could identify it for what it was- was ample enough answer.

 

The one detail she did remember with perfect clarity, was that she had the entire week off before commencing her formal duties in the Onmitsukidō.  She planned on spending the first half in bed, and the other half eating to her heart's content, after living on the bland – _Correction: nutritious!-_  rations served in the boot camp mess hall.  Perhaps she would even combine the two and just alternate between sleeping and pigging out in bed. 

 

Turning her pillow over, she sank back into her futon, ready to go back to sleep, when her eye fell upon a strange shadow cast against the wall. 

 

A Hell Butterfly – _her_  Hell Butterfly- was perched on the surface of the nightstand, gently fluttering its wings.  Yoruichi frowned.   _A message?  But I'm on leave.  Who would me calling on me now?_   Slipping her hand out from under the covers, she held her index finger aloft.  The Hell Butterfly landed on her knuckle, and out of the small, delicate body came Kisuke's voice:

 

"Hey."

 

It was a while before Yoruichi realized that was the extent of the message, and when she did, she burst into laughter.  Only Kisuke would ever think of using Hell Butterflies as a chatting device.  Her heart swelled at the sound of a familiar voice; she only wished the damn fool had left a longer message.  After two weeks in isolation with strangers, she ached for a real conversation –item five on her list after sleep, sleep, food, sleep- and his was a particularly soothing voice.  When he wasn't acting like an idiot, at least.

 

Fourteen whole days and all he could say was  _Hey_?  

 

_Well… Two can play at this game._

 

Bringing her index finger closer, Yoruichi whispered  _Hi_ , then sent the Hell Butterfly on its way, smiling.

 

* * *

 

**AUGUST 12 TH, 128 B.H.I., THIRTEENTH DIVISION OUTPOST, NAGASAKI BAY, JAPAN**

 

Captain Ukitake had told him it was only matter of  _when_  before Soul Society declared war on their Quincy enemies.  The  _when_  came sooner than Kisuke had expected and the beginnings of summer found the Thirteen Divisions officially engaged in full-on conflicts throughout Japan.

 

With little experience under his belt, it took Kisuke two long months to convince Lieutenant Matsuo of his rightful place.  Not on the outskirts of Rukongai, keeping feeble Hollows at bay, nor elsewhere in the Material World on generic patrol duty, but on the warfront.  He suspected it had only taken Matsuo so long to transfer him as an attempt to curb his arrogance, to quote her.  Still, she must have found it increasingly difficult to come up with convincing excuses, when he would complete his missions within a scant few hours of their assignment.

 

And so by mid-August, after a stern preparatory lecture, Kisuke found himself relocated deep within the green mountains along Nagasaki Bay, in the outpost of the Thirteenth Division.

 

"You think they're hiding in Dejima?"  Kisuke asked Matsuo, as they lay flat by a ledge overlooking the bay.  His eyes were trained on the city of Nagasaki in the distance.

 

"All the intel we've been able to gather points in that direction," she said.  "So now our problem is—"

 

"No outsiders allowed in or out of Dejima," Kisuke said, nodding.  "And if the Quincies are hiding there, we can't infiltrate the compound.  Not without revealing ourselves."

 

"Which they'll use to their advantage by alerting the humans to our presence, something they know we want to avoid," Matsuo said.  "So you see the conundrum."

 

Kisuke nodded, brushing a piece of foliage away from his forehead to try and get a better look at Dejima Island.

 

Under Japan's isolationist policy, Nagasaki was the sole port where foreign trade was allowed.  According to Matsuo, the few imports were limited to Chinese and Dutch merchandise.  Not only was trade carefully regulated, but the merchants themselves were also forbidden from setting foot in Nagasaki.  Dejima, an artificial, fan-shaped island, had been set up right by the port to house the Dutch merchants who sold their wares.  But just as they not allowed to enter Japanese territory, so were the locals prohibited from entering Dejima.  The few exceptions were cooks, interpreters, carpenters, clerks, and the government officials tasked with inspecting incoming ships and overseeing the transfer of goods to and fro the island.

 

As the Tokugawa Shogunate loosened the restrictions on the import of western knowledge, the small Dutch trading post flourished into a center of medicine and the sciences.  Many a samurai visited the island under strict supervision, in order to become learned in the so-called  _Dutch Studies_.  With their scientific and mercantile services, the Dutch had managed to earn the Shogunate's trust over the years.  As a result, the Japanese applied only few restrictions in the Westerners' daily life, otherwise leaving them to their own devices. 

 

When it came to hiding places, the Quincies had chosen theirs with wisdom.

 

"There are very few times within a year when there is any sort of mobility to and from Dejima," Matsuo said.  "Twice a year when a new ship arrives, and once a year on November, when the old Kapitan is relieved of his duties.  He is tasked with traveling to Edo to pay his respects to the Shogun, and a new Kapitan gets chosen."

 

"Kapitan?"

 

In response, Matsuo slid a piece of parchment across the grass over to Kisuke.  A quick glance told him it contained a summary of whatever information had been gleaned by observing Dejima over the months, as well as a list of noted officials in the area.   Topping the list was the name of the Nagasaki Governor, Kurihara Morisada, and right below, the name of the highest official of the Dutch trading post.  "Da… Danieru… Arumen— Good grief, that's his  _name_?" Kisuke said.  "Isn't there some sort of title—?"

 

"Keep reading."

 

"Daaaa whatever, Op… Opperu…hu— Kapitan it is."

 

Matsuo chuckled.  "We call him Kapitan Dan," she said.  "So that's about it.  Read that document and you have been officially caught up.  Welcome to the glamorous life of spying on Dejima day and night."

 

While it was true that Dejima appeared to be a dead-end for the time being, it was an instrumental location in the fight against Quincies.  If their intelligence was correct, it was the hiding place of the ringleaders, the radicals who had provided the spark for the country-wide revolt against Soul Society.  The war would never truly be over as long as they lived, free to guide future generations into renewed uprisings.

 

"What about sending someone into the city?" Kisuke said as Matsuo pushed herself up onto her feet.

 

"We've all tried our hand at extracting information from the locals, but there was nothing of note," she said.  "Like I said, there is no interaction between them and the Dutch."

 

"Mind if I give it a shot?" Kisuke said.

 

Ear trained on their conversation the entire time, Nishimura Katsuo, the division's Fourth Seat, perked up at the sound of that.  "Yes, excellent; let the rookie go."

 

Both he and Ito Benjirō, the division's Third Seat, had been lounging about on their futons under the small, makeshift shelter, studying a small mountain of paperwork in an effort to formulate some sort of plan to drive the Quincies out of hiding.   

 

"I don't suppose your enthusiasm is in any way related to the fact that it was  _your_  turn today?" Matsuo said as she made her way over to them.

 

Nishimura's brown eyes widened in feigned offense.  It made his sharp facial features stand out even more, giving him the appearance of a particularly affronted owl.  "Well I never!" said the black-haired man.  "I only meant that he's new; he has to learn  _sometime_ , doesn't he?"

 

"That he does," Matsuo said, letting out a sigh.  "Get yourself into a gigai, Urahara.  Time to tour the city."

 

Almost two hours later, Kisuke was clad in a plain gray yukata with a map in hand, mingling with the crowd weaving in and out of the port-side marketplace.  In the distance, he could make out the road leading to a canopy, where two government officials were stationed.  Behind the canopy, the gate led right to the Island of Dejima, and into the Dutch compound.

 

After perusing the many stands were peddlers sold their foreign spices, tea and produce, Kisuke finally discovered the section of the market that had intrigued him ever since he'd read through the assembled reports: the numerous book stalls.

 

His resolve was truly tested as one of the store clerks let him leaf through a stunning, illustrated book on anatomy.  The price tag was so far beyond the meager stipend he had been issued for the mission, that the only way he could leave the market with it was by whacking the clerk over the head and making a run for it.  The book was beautiful enough that he was seriously considering that plan.

 

"I might be interested in something a little more… recreational," Kisuke said, glancing up from the book.  The Shogunate was quite categorical that the only sort of Western influence should be limited to their science.  And yet Kisuke had no doubt a number of less 'serious' publications had managed to sneak their way into Nagasaki.  Locating a store clerk who had some sort of connection to the black market could be a start.

 

The clerk cleared his throat, glancing once from side to side, before indicating a section of the stall.  The stacks of books there were innocuously labelled  _Chemistry_.  Kisuke picked up the top book off the first stack and flipped it open, as per the clerk's discreet gesture.  Underneath the fake cover lay a crudely bound, handwritten copy of  _A Modest Proposal and Other Satirical Works_.  The original author was foreign.  It seemed the copious interpreters stationed in Nagasaki had kept themselves busy outside of their duties within Dejima.

 

 _That could be an angle,_ Kisuke thought.  He went through a few volumes, searching for some sort of clue, perhaps an interpreter's coded signature, or any sort of mark on the manuscripts that could lead somewhere.  It was during his search that he came across the most mind-bogglingly long title of a novel he had ever seen.  Hidden beneath a fake cover containing the theories of one  _Lavoisier,_  the true, handwritten cover of the novel read: 

 

_The Life and Strange Surprizing Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, Of York, Mariner:_

 

_Who lived Eight and Twenty Years, all alone in an un-inhabited Island on the Coast of America, near the Mouth of the Great River of Oroonoque;_

 

_Having been cast on Shore by Shipwreck, wherein all the Men perished but himself._

 

_With An Account how he was at last as strangely deliver'd by Pyrates._

 

 _Pyrates? **Pirates**?_   Kisuke's face broke into a grin upon sight of the last word.  Yoruichi would love this book.

 

Seeing the look on Kisuke's face, the clerk hurried to wax rhapsodic about the novel's graces.  "That is an  _excellent_  choice," he said, dropping his voice.  "I can't get new copies ordered fast enough.  It is beloved by adults and children alike, a marvelous adventure; you will not regret making the purchase."

 

Kisuke thought of Matsuo's reaction should he return with no more than a copy of fanciful novel he most certainly wasn't authorized to buy with the division's funds.  He pictured the lecture he would no doubt get, having already tried her patience by pushing to be transferred to Nagasaki.  It was  _not_  a good idea to test his luck with her.

 

 _Ahhh, screw it. I'll reimburse Matsuo when we get back._   He wanted to see the look on Yoruichi's face as she unwrapped this for their birthday this year. 

 

"How much?" he asked the clerk.

 

"For you, a mere two Shu."

 

" _Two_  Shu?" Kisuke said, arching an eyebrow.  " _Really?_   For a black mar—"

 

"Okay, okay,  _fine_!" the clerk said, flailing at Kisuke to get him to lower his voice.  "One Shu."

 

For that much, he could've bought a brand new novel, but Kisuke decided not to haggle any further, lest they attract unwanted attention.  "One Shu it is," he said, digging inside his pocket for the money bag Matsuo had handed him, rummaging through for a small, rectangular silver coin.

 

The clerk wore a sour expression as watched him struggle with his money bag, muttering something about being robbed blind.  His crabby disposition only changed when his gaze traveled to the back of the market.  

 

Kisuke's eyes followed the clerk's.  There was a crowd assembled, and their excited whispers had drawn his attention as well.  The many onlookers were blocking the exit to the marketplace, making it impossible to see what was happening outside.  "What's that all about?" Kisuke said.

 

The clerk stood up on a stool, craning his neck and squinting toward the exit.  After a moment, his eyebrows shot up, his mouth forming a perfect  _o_.  "Ooohhhhh, it's Mametarō!" he said.  "I haven't seen  _her_  out and about in a while…"

 

"Mametarō?" 

 

"Nagasaki's loveliest flower," the clerk said with a grin.  "A former geisha from Maruyama's Nakano Teahouse.  Got herself out of her contract by the age of  _twenty one_.  She's rumored to be engaged to Lord Takahashi.  We all thought… well…"  There was a mercurial grin on the clerk's lips as his words trailed off.

 

"Thought what?"

 

"It was no secret the Governor always favored her… I guess one might assume— But that is not to say Lord Takahashi is not deserving of a woman of her station.  A fine match, if the rumors are true.  Fine, indeed."

 

The crowd thinned out, and Kisuke was able to feast his own eyes upon the famous Mametarō as she passed by, followed by two servants.  He could see why the clerk had referred to her in such a complimenting way.  She was a vision in her intricately styled bun, tastefully made up face, and many-layered cinnabar kimono.  Its end trailed behind her as she seemed to glide across the street in her tall platform shoes, as though she were stepping on nothing but the surface of a cloud.  It was no wonder her kind were considered a moving work of art.

 

He'd heard of geisha, of course, the unofficial successors to the obsolete oiran.  But they were a relatively new brainchild of the Material World, and as such non-existent in Soul Society.  It was said they walked the line between artists and courtesans, the more modern permutations of geisha leaning toward the former role while rejecting the latter.

 

And as the last glimpse of Mametarō's magnificent kimono disappeared across the corner, Kisuke's jaw dropped.   _This is it. **This** is our way in._  There was one profession Matsuo hadn't mentioned when outlining the list of Japanese persons allowed within the Dutch compound, but it  _had_  been noted in the report he'd been given.

 

His mind going into overdrive, he made a move to leave the stall, before the clerk accosted him.  Kisuke paid up and slipped the book at the front of his yukata, hurrying out of the marketplace and rolling out his map. 

 

He needed to get to the Maruyama red-light district immediately.

 

 **_"My, oh my…  Spending the division's money so liberally, stunning an unsuspecting saleswoman, stealing a priceless kimono…  Aren't_ ** **we _feeling rebellious today?"_**

 

Benihime's drawl made Kisuke cringe as he stepped out of a kimono shop a few minutes later.  He couldn't very well stroll into Maruyama's finest teahouses wearing that ratty grey yukata; he would be summarily kicked out.   _I'm returning the kimono when I'm done,_  he told Benihime.   _And I didn't **stun**_ _her, I just… tweaked her perception a touch._  

 

**_"Oh don't go excusing yourself; I was impressed."_ **

 

Kisuke smirked.   _That **was**  a rather successful memory modification spell, wasn't it?_

 

Benihime's pleased chuckle raised his spirits, and he ran his hands down the exquisite teal kimono and black haori.  The intricate weave of the silk alone would likely be enough to grant him entrance, but he wanted to leave no room for error.  This was the time to exercise every ounce of his etiquette training from his time in the Shihōin court.

 

The Maruyama district could have been plucked out of any city in Japan.  Its cobblestone streets were lined with shops both small and spacious, green trees, and small carriages loaded with goods.  The only notable difference to any other district within a human city, was the abundance of women out and about.  With the exception of royalty and female samurai, women in Japan held little power when compared to their male counterparts.  However, in pleasure districts throughout the country, it was women themselves who held all the power and set the rules.  What few men roamed the streets of Maruyama were either customers of the hundreds of teahouses, or servants to the proprietors of such establishments.

 

Kisuke had feared he would waste time navigating through the large district to find the Nakano Teahouse, but he needn't have worried.  Upon first inquiry, he was given specific directions and told to knock on the back gate of the plum grove.  

 

The teahouse gate was sandwiched between two tall walls that kept the enclosure private to passersby.  Kisuke reached up to ring the bells hanging off the tall canopy and waited, for the first time starting to have reservations about what he had already put in motion.  Having never set foot within a prostitute house before, he suddenly felt self-conscious, wary he would say the wrong thing, or betray his own inexperience in some fashion.  Though the red-light district didn't truly come to life until dark, he wondered whether he would be the sole customer –of sorts- at this hour or not.

 

_Are there actually going to be people… in the adjacent rooms…?_

 

**_"Are you horrified or intrigued?  Sometimes I cannot tell."_ **

 

Feeling his cheeks burn, Kisuke mentally admonished Benihime for her ill timing and set about fanning his face, trying to calm himself.  There was little time for shame; the gate was being opened.

 

The heavy wooden door creaked ajar, the entrance now flanked by two men clad in dark blue.  They wore identical dismissive expressions. 

 

"The teahouse is not open at this hour," said the one on the left.

 

"You would be welcome to return at—"

 

"Thank you, gentlemen," Kisuke said, adopting a dignified posture.  His voice took on the refined lilt he employed in the presence of people like Captain Ukitake, or Lord Shihōin.  "But I am not here to offer my patronage.  I would like to speak to the manager of this establishment."

 

"Concerning?"

 

_Yeesh, here we go; I wasn't expecting **two**  of them._

 

**_"How different can it be, really?"_ **

 

 _We're about to find out._   

 

Kisuke pulled out the document Matsuo had given him, and just like he had done in the kimono shop earlier, he held it up before the two men.  His free hand performed the subtle, somatic component of the memory modification spell.  Casting it on a single target was complicated enough; the dexterity required to chain the spell twice was going to be an ambitious task.  Thankfully, he'd had the good sense to dress the part, minimizing the amount of work needed to make his bluff believable.  Changing their perception of the document alone should do the trick.

 

"My name is Miura Kiyoshi.  I represent the Shogunate and have been dispatched to Nagasaki on a diplomatic mission.  I am here on Governor Kurihara's suggestion, and would rather not say more out in the open, if you do not mind," he said.

 

The two men stared at the document in his hand, by now hopefully confounded enough to perceive it as an official pass bearing the Shogun's rectangular, red seal.  Their eyes glazed over and they stood silent for a few seconds, gazes locked upon the mock pass.

 

At long last, the man on the right regained his full capacities first, then pulled the door wide open.  "Please come in, Mr. Miura.  We are honored to receive you," he said, as both he and his colleague fell into a deep bow.

 

Kisuke slipped the document back into the front of his kimono and stepped forward, thanking them. 

 

**_"Just when I thought you couldn't get more entertaining."_ **

 

Kisuke suppressed a smirk.  He followed the winding stone steps along the elegant garden, fragrant pine trees lining his path.  The two men hurried forward, leading him past a small shrine to Inari that stood underneath a tall torii, and over to the beautiful shōji bearing a pine design at the front.  One of the men pulled the doors aside and they both entered first, coming to kneel on either side of the entrance as Kisuke walked into the teahouse.

 

A woman stood at the top of the stairwell that greeted him upon entry, most likely the manager.  Once her servants had repeated the information Kisuke had presented them with, she descended the steps daintily, coming to a stop before him.  She introduced herself as Madame Murata Chōchō.  She was a handsome middle-aged woman; from the healthy sheen in her black updo, the thin wrinkles lining her plump face, her given name, to the very way she held herself, Madame Murata gave Kisuke the impression she had once practiced the same profession as the women she was now in charge of. There was cleverness behind her brown eyes, the kind of streetwise smarts that could only be the result of accumulated experience.

 

She led Kisuke to her private office just down the corridor, where they both took seats opposite a small table, engaging in idle chit-chat until one of her manservants served them their tea and then quietly excused himself.     

 

"So, to what do we owe the honor of a visit from an esteemed representative of our government, Mr. Miura?" said Madame Murata.

 

Relieved not to see nor hear any customers in the vicinity, Kisuke found some of his confidence returning and slipped back into his role with ease.  "His Excellency, the great Shogun Tokugawa Ieharu, has been concerned lately that our Dutch guests may not be as deserving of our generosity as we might have assumed in the past," he said.

 

"Indeed?"  Madame Murata said, holding her cup before her plum-tinted lips.  "Though I cannot say they have ever caused us trouble, I am not surprised.  What more can one expect from a nest of parasites, after all?  Is there talk of closing down the Dejima factory?"

 

"Perhaps, if his Excellency's suspicions turn out to be true.  You understand, of course, that more than anything, we would like to avoid a diplomatic episode.  Unrefined though the Dutch may be, their contributions to the betterment of our nation are not unwelcome.  We would be wise to exercise caution and a delicate hand."

 

"And how does a man like the illustrious Shogun come to know of our modest little teahouse?"

 

"Not the Shogun himself, I'm afraid, but Governor Kurihara," Kisuke said, smiling at her.  "He spoke very highly of you.  When I was sent from Edo to investigate the matter and contacted him, your fine establishment was his first and only suggestion.  I was given to understand he has enjoyed many a pleasant evening in the company of the talented artists in your employ."

 

A flash of coldness passed in Madame Murata's eyes, as swiftly as a snake bore down upon its prey.  She had read through the insinuation in his words, as he'd hoped she would.  She understood that he knew one of her former employees was, or had been, mistress to the Governor.  Though practice of prostitution was perfectly legal, samurai were prohibited from soliciting such services.  It would not bode well for the reputation of the teahouse, if word got to the Shogun that one of its employees was involved with a man of office.  Especially if said employee was now betrothed to another powerful man within the city.  "The Governor humbles us with his praise," she said, returning his smile.  

 

Kisuke mentally thanked the gossiping store clerk, no longer regretting the extra Shu he had forked over for the book. 

 

"It was my proposal," he said.  "And Governor Kurihara agreed, that the best approach would be to organize a banquet in the Kapitan's honor."

 

"The Kapitan?  You mean the Opperhoofd?"

 

Figuring this was the best time to showcase some humility, especially after the tension of the previous moment, Kisuke lowered his head.  "Madame has a gift for language I sincerely covet; I'm afraid the title is far too foreign a word for my boorish tongue."

 

Though he doubted it was enough to make her forget his earlier jab, the Madame laughed at his comment, the stiffness in her shoulders easing up.  "A banquet, then?"

 

Kisuke nodded, taking a sip off his teacup.  "Perhaps on November, as a token of our appreciation for all his hard work this year, and a farewell before he departs for the capital," he said.  "The details are not set in stone quite yet; I needed to speak with you first.  So now that you understand the situation at hand, I would ask for your advice.  As a woman with an eye for talent and beauty, would you be amenable to recommending someone suitable?"

 

"Some of my girls are already familiar with the compound in Dejima.  Mostly Chinese or Korean.  You understand," Madame Murata said, her wrinkled upper lip curling in distaste. 

 

Oh, he understood, alright.  Courtesans were not exempt from the social ladder, with the successful geisha and the oiran before them sitting at the crown of the hierarchy.  The unfortunate souls such as the girls Madame Murata was so disdainful of, lived their entire lives as little more than slaves.  Nagasaki was the only city within the country where prostitution services were open to foreigners as well, but Kisuke was certain the Dutch merchants —the Kapitan excluded- would  _never_  be accepted as clients by a more celebrated geisha.

 

"But I assume that when it comes to entertaining the Opperhoofd himself you are looking for someone more… sophisticated?" Madame Murata said, affirming his suspicions.

 

"Quite so."

 

"You've done well to choose us for this undertaking, then," the Madame said.  "Some of the girls in Murayama are —forgive me- so uncultured.  A smattering of talent and they all fancy themselves to be the next Kikuya.  Sweet little things, but without any substance.  No matter how much you polish a pebble, it will never turn into jade, no?"

 

"How elegantly put."

 

"A demure flower for your banquet, then, full of mystique?"

 

"I shall defer to your wisdom and experience on this matter," Kisuke said.  "I do, however, fear that an artist trained with the sensibilities of the Japanese in mind might, sadly, have little effect on a Westerner.  Perhaps someone equally cultured, but with a touch of boldness?  A flexible character, one who would be capable of reading and adapting to a more… crude audience."

 

"A fair point," Madame Murata said, her eyes rolling upwards in thought.  "I have someone in mind," she said after a short pause.  "A very… spirited girl."

 

Which was code for  _vulgar_ , or at least the Madame's definition of vulgar.  Someone bold and outspoken, probably quite beautiful, too, whose whims were only tolerated because she was very successful at what she did, providing for the whole teahouse.

 

 _Perfect._  

 

"I would love to meet her, if that would be possible."

 

As highly unorthodox as it was to see a geisha in anything but her full regalia, Madame Murata indulged him.  One of the young servant girls scampered off to fetch Ryūko, the geisha in question, but Kisuke was cautioned that he would have to be patient.  He was guided into a private room, where —surely enough- he spent the next forty or so minutes waiting.  His tea had grown cold by the time the door slid open, revealing the so-called  _spirited_ Ryūko.

 

A less disciplined man might have whimpered.  Kisuke managed to retain some of his dignity, and instead only gaped.

 

Ryūko was leaning against the threshold in a stance not usually employed by highly-trained geisha.  And yet Kisuke couldn't imagine that fact bothering any man who laid eyes upon her.  The way her hip jutted out just so, the way the side of her loose, tousled hair caressed her cheek, the slim fingers placed upon the door frame... It all made for a very inviting spectacle.  And it certainly didn't hurt that the girl herself was nothing short of bewitching.

 

Though she lacked the round face so favored by men in Japan, Ryūko's other features more than made up for nature's one little negligence.  High cheekbones, a narrow mouth with plump lips, long eyelashes, and slim, straight eyebrows that framed her dark eyes.  Her hair was the deepest black, long and straight, swept to the side of her neck.  The skin on her back peeking out from the low collar of her yukata was alabaster, as was her face, even without a hint of makeup on. 

 

She stepped inside, and Kisuke saw that her previous casual stance was only a front.  She was perfectly capable of moving with the practiced grace demanded in her profession.  Elbows locked, hands folded before her lap, she glided into the room, the trail of her beautiful white and purple yukata fluttering behind her.  She knelt down before the table across him, one hand skillfully brushing the front of her shins to tuck her yukata in place.

 

"Mr. Miura, I presume?" she said, her smile soft and dainty.

 

Kisuke cleared his throat, now wishing he had had the foresight to open up a window.  "The very same.  I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Ryūko."

 

It didn't take long to fill her in on the details of his discussion with Madame Murata.  Ryūko listened carefully, though he suspected she had already gotten the gist from her manager before joining him for tea.  

 

"And what would my government ask of me, exactly?" Ryūko said.

 

"No details just yet," Kisuke said.  "I only wanted to meet you.  If both sides agree to go forward, we shall schedule a second meeting to discuss the finer points of the operation," he said.  "If you have any reservations, let me assure you that we will require little more than for you to keep the Kapitan entertained throughout the evening.  Possibly a number of guests, as well." 

 

"And can I expect you to be among said guests?"

 

"We shall see.  Would that be a problem?  A... distraction, perhaps?" Kisuke said.  "If you feel you might be unable to concentrate on your work with a government official present—"     

 

"Please… If a roguish grin and a handsome face were enough to throw me, I would be destitute.  Or worse, married."

 

 **_"Oh, I do like_ ** **her _."_**

 

_I bet you do._

 

Though he knew such compliments were not to be taken at face value from someone in her line of work, Kisuke couldn't help but blush at her words.  Letting out a curt chuckle, he fidgeted with his teacup, bringing it up to his lips, only to find it empty.  Ryūko's trilling laughter at his pathetic attempt to keep a dignified face only made him more flustered, but she smiled, resting her chin on her slender fingers.  "I am glad to hear that," Kisuke said, setting the teacup cup down again.  "This is a matter that requires a certain finesse; I would not trust anyone but a professional to see it through."

 

Tempted though he was to spend more time with Ryūko under the guise of discussing the operation, Kisuke knew he should be heading back to the outpost.  Matsuo was bound to be waiting for his return any minute now.  But more importantly, Ryūko's jasmine-scented hair was causing Kisuke to form certain mental associations he did  _not_  want to be making right about now.  Or  _ever_.

 

Thanking both Ryūko and Madame Murata, Kisuke promised to return in due time.  He left the Nakano Teahouse and retraced his steps, pleased with the day's proceedings.  Though he had acted without authorization, he felt that his venture had given the Thirteen Divisions a unique opportunity to gain insight on the Quincy hideout with no fear of detection.  

 

He only hoped Matsuo would give him a chance to explain himself.

 

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU HAVE A PLAN WHAT IS THAT KIMONO AND ARE YOU  _SERIOUSLY_  SUGGESTING I GO BACK TO THE CAPTAIN COMMANDER TO ASK FOR A  _ **BROTHEL**_ STIPEND?"

 

Well.  He couldn't deny she was giving him a chance to speak, at least.  

 

Kisuke ignored Nishimura and Ito guffawing in the back, focusing on Matsuo's beet-colored face.  "No!  No, no, no..." he said, holding up both hands.  "Of  _course_  you wouldn't ask that of the Captain Commander."

 

Matsuo took in a measured breath.  "Okay, so—"

 

"Captain Ukitake, though…"  

 

He supposed he was lucky he escaped with all his limbs.  

 

Matsuo eventually gave his plan some serious consideration, but it took no small amount of supplications on his part, and time.  In all fairness to her, it took about twice as long for Nishimura and Ito to stop giggling like schoolgirls.  By nightfall, they had come up with a rudimentary strategy to present the Thirteen Divisions with, in order to request authorization, funds and backup for the proposed mission.   

 

Matsuo suggested they spend the night at the Material World.  They would travel back to Soul Society come dawn, leaving Ito behind until their return.  Being in charge of the first shift, she sent the three of them to sleep, but not before asking Kisuke to linger back.  As Nishimura and Ito headed to their respective futons, she led him a short distance away from the camp.

 

"Yes, Matsuo?" Kisuke said.

 

Matsuo turned to him, arms folded before her chest.  "I will commend you for your initiative," she said.  "And your insight.  Despite my original reservations, you came up with a solid plan.  But I would be remiss if I did not offer a few words of caution."

 

Kisuke's shoulders tensed up at the ominous tone, but he could not pretend he hadn't seen this coming.

 

"There will be occasions when you will be excused for acting independently," she said.  "Time-sensitive matters, for example, or the battlefield.  Today was  _not_  such an occasion.  Your plan could have very well been carried out once you had first disclosed it to me."

 

Kisuke nodded.  "You are right, of course.  And I do apologize profusely.  I simply... I wanted to do well."

 

 _ **"What you wanted was to do your own thing, you filthy little liar,"**_ Benihime said.  There was no admonition in her tone, only affection and amusement.

 

 _Hush.  I have to keep a straight face, here._    

 

"I understand," Matsuo said.  "I was in your position once, too, so I know what it feels like to want to impress your superiors.  But let me be clear on this, Urahara.  You are a good officer, competent, smart.  And I know very well you do not feel the  _slightest_  amount of remorse right now."

 

 **_"Ohhhhh.  Not_ ** **** **quite** **** **_as naïve as you thought, is she?"_ **

 

"You have ambition, I respect that," Matsuo said.  "But don't you  _dare_  go rogue on me again, or I'll bench you till kingdom come, understood?"

 

"Yes, Lieutenant."

 

Benihime's throaty titters serenaded him all the way to his futon, punctuated by the occasional jab at his failure to fool Matsuo.  Despite the embarrassing end, Kisuke couldn't deny it had been a successful first foray into a real mission.  In between her rebukes, Matsuo had congratulated him on a plan well-formed, after all.

 

And that was a start.

 

* * *

 

**DECEMBER 5 TH, 128 B.H.I., EXECUTIVE MILITIA BUILDING, ONMITSUKIDŌ COMPLEX, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

Yoruichi rested her elbows against the railing, taking in a deep breath.  On the horizon, the sun began to dip beneath the mountain line, its swan song for the day casting a bright, orange haze over the entire complex.

 

The Supreme Commander's quarters truly had the most stunning view within the Onmitsukidō grounds.  Perhaps even the whole of Soul Society, Yoruichi thought.

 

The individual corps buildings, however, would never be praised for their architectural beauty.  Strict lines, compact shape, built with purely utilitarian purposes in mind.  Yet there was something oddly comforting about the hulking pillars and their timelessness.  A fixture of the landscape for centuries, so timeworn they might have sprung up from the earth itself.  Overlooking the Court to the south and the sprawling Rukongai to the north, they rose tall above the walls that separated nobility from the common man.  Down to the southeast, Yoruichi could make out the path that led to the Yellow Gate and directly to her ancestral home.

 

Even among such stone giants, the Executive Militia building stood out.  Meant to house leaders, the scions of her ancient clan, its construction preceded that of any other construct within the complex.  Though similar to the other three main buildings in most respects, a traditional, tiled gable roof sat atop its crown, identical to the one covering the suspended walkways that connected all four structures.  The surrounding wall of the courtyard down below, another older structure within the complex, had been built in a similarly traditional style, as was the Relief Station and the many administration buildings scattered throughout the grounds.  

 

The true heart of the complex, however, beat down beneath the earth.  True to their trade, the Intelligence Corps were located underground.  Yoruichi assumed the original architect was not a fan of subtlety, likely finding the convergence of the literal and the figurative to be the height of hilarity.  Along with the offices and living quarters of the Intelligence Corps, the structure housed the War Room, a neutral zone where all five separate divisions of the Onmitsukidō met to form strategy.  Though the Intelligence Corps was the sole division located entirely beneath the surface of the earth, it was not unique in its possession of an underground segment.  

 

Yoruichi's division owned a number of tunnels leading to all correctional facilities they overlooked.  Their use was forbidden to other members of the Onmitsukidō without authorization.  She had also heard of a similar tunnel leading from the War Room to the Central 46 compound, though she had never seen it with her own eyes. 

 

But the most famous underground structure of the Onmitsukidō was the Development Center.  A separate entity to all divisions but with close ties to the Sabotage Corps, it had been created in the image of the Shihōin Vault.  Inside numerous labs and smithies, its researchers built the specialized gear equipped by the Onmitsukidō forces.  The Armory itself, where all such creations were stored, was located above, within the Sabotage Corps building.

 

Yoruichi could see the fruits of the Development Center's labor being put to good use at the courtyard below, where a sea of black-clad men were practicing their aim against sophisticated mannequins.  Next to her, Sergeant Saito Hideki, leader of the Apprehension Unit and her superior, joined her in observing the training.  With little else to do other than wait for someone to summon them for their scheduled report, the spectacle helped pass the time.         

 

It was almost dark outside when a servant arrived to guide them along the walkway and over to the Commander's quarters.  It was not Yoruichi's first visit, but it was the first time she saw anyone other than the Lieutenant Colonel, or the Commander himself occupying said quarters.

 

While he hadn't dared make himself  _too_  comfortable, the person waltzing about the office with the ease and air of someone born to do so, was Akira.  Her own bias aside, Yoruichi was not alone in finding the visual odd.  Saito's amber eyes flitted over to her questioningly as they stood at attention by the entrance. 

 

He held himself well, but Akira looked drained.  He deposited a large pile of documents upon the desk, then directed his gaze at them.  "Sergeant Saito, First Officer Shihōin," he said, gesturing inside.  "Do come in." 

 

Yoruichi and Saito took their seats by the chabudai, Akira following suit.  Her eyes stayed on him, hawk-like, waiting to see if he would dare take the Commander's designated, luxurious seat.  

 

Rising above her expectations, Akira sat on one of the empty pillows across them.  "I apologize for the delay," he said.  "Have you come to hand in your report for the Chiba mission?"

 

"Yes, sir," Saito said.  "With all due respect, I was expecting Lieutenant Colonel Noguchi, there were a few—"

 

"I know," Akira said, skimming the piece of paper in his hands.  "The Lieutenant Colonel is otherwise occupied today, but he made certain I was fully caught up on all matters."

 

As the newly inducted Lieutenant of the Executive Militia, Akira found himself in the delicate position of being second in command within his Corps, but not to his superior.  By tradition, the Supreme Commander also held the title of Executive Militia Corps Commander.  However, since the former's duties concerned the entire force, his true second, the Lieutenant Colonel, was the superior officer all other Lieutenants reported to.  It was no wonder Akira looked so overwhelmed, when additionally tasked with overseeing operations for the day.

 

"I see," Saito said.   

 

The Sergeant began giving Akira a full report of their last mission, and Yoruichi stayed mostly silent, only speaking when prompted.  By the time Saito's report reached its end, she had to grudgingly admit to herself that Akira had been nothing but professional.  Even harder to accept were his insightful comments and suggestions, displaying a keen instinct for the implicit that Lieutenant Colonel Noguchi didn't seem to possess.  Overall, the report went smoothly, and Yoruichi was still astounded over the lack of incident when she and Sergeant Saito were dismissed.  

 

"First Officer Shihōin," Akira said.  "I'd like a moment of your time in private before you depart, please."

 

_……Of course.  Spoke too soon._

 

Bizarre though it was to be addressed thus from someone she had once called a  _fartbreath_ , Yoruichi tried to remind herself that both she and her cousin were now colleagues who were expected to follow certain protocols.  After informing Sergeant Saito he need not wait on her, Yoruichi turned to Akira and stood at attention.

 

"Sir?" she said, mentally congratulating herself on not allowing any hints of sarcasm to color her voice.

 

"I see here—" Akira indicated the written report.  "—that your patrol reached the compound a full ten minutes earlier than the second patrol did."

 

"That is true."

 

"You did not think a coordinated effort would be best?"

 

 _Oh, for crying out loud.  You did_   ** _not_**   _just hold me back to question my strategy._   He didn't even have the decency to appear displeased, looking at her as though they were discussing nothing more troubling than the weather, instead.  

 

"I suggested to Sergeant Saito –and he agreed- that my team could act as a distraction," she said.  "Thus allowing the second patrol to infiltrate the compound unnoticed."

 

"I am not questioning the viability of the strategy itself," Akira said.  He placed the report onto the desk and then sat by the edge, crossing his arms.  "I am questioning whether it was a wise choice to push your team to their limits right before they were meant to engage in combat."

 

"My team was combat-ready when we reached the compound," Yoruichi said, tightening her grip on her wrist as she held her arms folded behind her back. 

 

"You covered a distance of seven kilometers in less than five minutes."

 

"Correct.  I knew they could do it, so we did."

 

"You mean  _you_  could do it," Akira said.  "Your prowess in Flash Stepping is well-known and commendable, but you'd do well to remember that not everyone can keep up with you."

 

Yoruichi took in a deep, measured breath.  "Like I said,  _sir_ , I  _knew_  my team was up to the task.  I have personally trained them; they were  _all_  capable of pulling it off without wasting unnecessary energy.  I know for a fact that they could have done it in  _four_  minutes, if pressed," she said.  "So unless there were any complaints, or condemning reports issued by my patrol members themselves—"   

 

"Oh, no, nothing to that effect," Akira said, taking a small pause before he continued.  "You seem to be quite popular with your subordinates."

 

"And I suppose that is a bad thing?"

 

"No.  It is, after all, one of the reasons you were chosen to be a patrol leader upon entering the Onmitsukidō," Akira said.  "The majority of your boot camp peers had nothing but positive words to say about you."

 

"I fail to see the problem, then."

 

"I never said there was a problem.  But I  _will_  caution you against being too… familiar with your troops," Akira said.  "You are no longer in the Academy; and these are not your friends.  You need to start treating these missions as more than a challenge."

 

His words might've been better-received if he weren't still wearing that ridiculous, tranquil expression.  It was the combination that made Yoruichi suddenly see red.  " _Excuse_  me?"

 

"You are a good officer, a good leader, but I sometimes feel you do not keep the necessary distance between yourself and your subordinates.  It is not only a matter of social standing, it is also a matter of upholding the integrity of the chain of command.  That is all."

 

 _The integrity of the chain of— Oh_   ** _screw you_** _.  That is_   ** _not_**   _the issue here._  

 

"Let me be perfectly clear on this," Yoruichi said, dropping all manner of humility.  "The fact that I know when to relax and give my troops a much-needed break does  _not_  mean I do not take things seriously."  She'd had every intention of defending herself in a calm and professional fashion, but the more she spoke, the more she stopped caring whether the recipient of her grievances was the appropriate one to begin with.

 

"It is not on  _me_  if you've been weighed and found wanting when compared to someone  _ten years_  your junior, so take your inferiority complex and shove it.  I couldn't care less about your insecurities if I tried, Akira, and if you  _ever_  dare imply again that I do not give every single mission the care and gravity it demands, I will  _not_  hesitate to humiliate you before your own men.  Feel free to report me and get me demoted if it'll help heal your fragile, fragile ego." 

 

She didn't wait for Akira's reaction or a dismissal, turning on her heel at once and exiting the Commander's quarters, fuming.

 

She worked herself up to such an extent, that upon her return to the Corrections Corps grounds, crowds were parting in her wake.  She'd made no effort to hide her mood and it was clear no-one wished to test her patience, people giving her a wide berth as she stalked down the corridors. 

 

Every now and then, in between her muttering a number of choice adjectives directed at Akira, some clarity would slip through the cracks, making her question the validity of her fury.  Having her behavior to her subordinates questioned was not a first since joining the Onmitsukidō.  In fact, it had been one of the most prominent admonitions from her instructors at boot camp.  The one stark difference?  Akira was the only one who had never lectured her on this in front of an audience.

 

The two conflicting voices in her head never made peace once throughout the day.  Frustrated, Yoruichi left work with a mounting headache and the desire to hit something, some _one_.  Hard.  She briefly considered sparring as a solution, but Kisuke was in Nagasaki.  Training on her own would do nothing to alleviate her rage.  So instead, she found herself knocking on Norio's door, in search of a different kind of distraction.

 

Late that night, when there was no more fight left in her, Yoruichi was finally able to put the incident behind her, her body comfortably boneless and sprawled over the soft futon.  She was starting to slip into a hazy slumber, when Norio, in a moment of supremely bad timing, brought up the Onmitsukidō.  

 

Head resting in the valley between her breasts, his fingertips traced circles on her bare thigh absent-mindedly.  "I'm thinking of taking the Onmitsukidō entrance exam," he said.

 

The news was unexpected enough that Yoruichi was able to focus on him and put aside her own issues with work.  Eye flitting down to him, she slipped one hand free to fork her fingers through the crown of his hair.  "You are?  You never told me you wanted to join."

 

He shifted around, chin resting on her sternum, a soft smile on his lips.  "I wanted it to be a surprise, but… I couldn't wait any longer.  I wanted to tell you."

 

Yoruichi's hand came to a rest, tufts of his brown hair locked between her fingers.  There was something in his expression that gave her pause, his turn of phrase making her wonder if he was making a career decision based on their relationship, on  _her_. 

 

"You don't think I would be suited for it?" Norio said, probably having expected a more enthusiastic response.

 

"No, you'd make a fine recruit.  The Intelligence Corps would be a good fit for you, I think."

 

The momentary scowl left his face and he smiled at her again.  He began to kiss a trail up toward her collar, his hands grasping the sides of her ribcage.  "You're planning on transferring there at some point, right?  We would be working together."

 

However much hated being wrong in her predictions, this was one of the few situations Yoruichi genuinely wished she had misjudged.  She was tempted to let him finish what he was starting, but she felt it might be a touch insensitive to allow him carry on, oblivious to her thoughts.  "Norio?"

 

"Hmmm?"

 

"You  _do_  realize that I couldn't be with you, if that were the case?"

 

Norio's lips froze mid-movement, his shoulders growing rigid.  "What do you mean?" he said, looking up at her, his green eyes wide.

 

"I plan on becoming Supreme Commander one day," Yoruichi said, disentangling her hand from his hair.  "I can't have the ranks littered with my exes."

 

Things were different in the Thirteen Divisions.  Co-operation between divisions was rare, occurring only in the face of a common enemy.  Under normal circumstances, each division's affairs were its own.  As such, fraternization between Soul Reapers of separate divisions, while certainly not encouraged, was not outright prohibited.  The only exception was, perhaps, a relationship between members of the same division.  Even then, the situation was frowned upon, but subject to the respective Captain's judgment. There were no explicit rules, merely guidelines, and it was common knowledge that said guidelines were blatantly ignored –often and with gusto- behind closed doors.

 

The Onmitsukidō, on the other hand, had been created as an organization that was always meant to operate as one, cohesive unit, with each division's missions feeding into one another.  Should the day ever arrive when she would be called to lead them all, Yoruichi knew she could not afford to overlook any loose ties.  If there was one thing Akira had succeeded in, it was to open her eyes to her potential weaknesses. 

 

Norio climbed off her, coming to rest on his side as he regarded her with growing alarm.  "So… what, are you saying I should join the Divisions instead?"

 

"I'm saying you should join whichever organization would be best for you," Yoruichi said.  "But if you join the Onmitsukidō, we can't be together."

 

Sitting up on the futon, Norio stared at the wall ahead, his face a mask of betrayal.  "How can you be so casual about this?  You won't even…?  You won't  _ask_  me to reconsider?"

 

It wasn't that she wouldn't miss him.  They had been a couple long enough that she had grown comfortable around him, had come to enjoy his quirks and often look forward to their time together, but this was not a decision that should be made with emotional criteria.

 

Yoruichi rolled onto her side, supporting her chin on her balled fist.  "Why would I?  This is your future; if joining the Onmitsukidō is what you truly want, why should I hold you back?"

 

Norio scoffed, running a hand through his hair.  "You really are quite something," he said, then unceremoniously got up, starting to pick up his clothes off the floor.

 

Yoruichi sat up on her knees, aghast that instead of appreciating her concern for his future, he was trying to guilt-trip her for her mature approach to the matter.  "Are you seriously trying to make me out to be the bad guy here?" she said.  "What was I supposed to say?  Hold our relationship hostage to coerce you one way or the other?  How petty do you think I am?"

 

With his back turned, Norio continued to dress himself.  "I never said you're petty, just… For heaven's sake, Yoruichi; we've been together for almost a year and a half and you're acting like you'd be parting ways with an acquaintance," he said.  "I… I deserve better than this."

 

Yoruichi turned away, arms folded, as Norio finally sought her eyes.  She didn't know what he expected from her.  Tears, perhaps?  A cloying declaration of affection?  She had always assumed that after such a lengthy relationship, he was well aware that she wasn't prone to either.   

 

She could feel his eyes on her, his hope that she might try to soften the blow palpable, like a sunflower desperately chasing after the slightest ray of light.

 

When it became clear that she would not indulge him, he broke the silence. "Stay as long as you like," he said.  "I'll go sleep at Miura's tonight."

 

There was a finality in his tone that made her look up at long last.  "Is this… Are we breaking up?" she said.

 

"Would there be a point in prolonging this?"

 

Yoruichi let out a sigh.  "You haven't made a decision yet, haven't even taken the test—"

 

"I'm not looking for a few extra months of companionship," Norio said, and she could now hear the strain in his voice, could finally understand what it was costing him to say this.  "I thought… I thought there was a future here.  Seems I was mistaken." 

 

She opened her mouth, ready to start explaining herself, to contradict his words, but she could find no fault in them.  There hadn't been a future in this relationship since its inception.  And the fact that she had always known, while he had only just reached the conclusion was troubling.  Had she had ever unintentionally led him on?  Or had he perhaps thought he might one day change her mind?

 

The logical part of her told her she had nothing to feel guilty about, that she had never been anything but upfront, if not with words then with actions.  And yet she couldn't meet his eyes again, a small but not insignificant part of her reminding her of all the times she had been less than fair, or even downright dishonest with him.

 

Norio threw a haori over his shoulders, pausing just long enough by the door, giving her one last chance to salvage this.

 

Yoruichi met his gaze, feeling that she at least owed him that much, a farewell, but remained silent.  As much as she regretted whatever pain she may have caused him, she didn't once waver in her resolve to keep from jeopardizing her own future in the Onmitsukidō. 

 

"Take care of yourself, Yoruichi."

 

The door closed behind him, leaving nothing but a gust of cold wind in his wake.  Yoruichi pulled the covers up to her shoulders, wrapping her arms around her knees.  

 

_I'm trying to._

 

* * *

 

 

**MARCH 11 TH, 127 B.H.I., OUTSIDE NAGASAKI, JAPAN**

 

Kisuke flattened himself against the trunk of a tree, keeping his ears peeled for the first sign of movement within the grove.  Across him, Nishimura, along with a smattering of Fifth and Eleventh Division members followed his lead.  Ten pairs of eyes swept over the nooks and crannies of the area, searching for a trail. 

 

Their plan to lead the band of Quincies into the grove had worked well.  A little  _too_  well for Kisuke's liking.  In his past dealings with this particular group, he had learned the hard way that even the best laid plans presented with complications.  When they didn't, it was a sign that something unpleasant was just around the corner. 

 

_Should I force them out?_

 

Benihime approved.   ** _"Probably the best course.  The longer you wait, the more time you give them to form a counter-attack."_**

 

Kisuke raised a hand to get Nishimura's attention.  He held his palm flat, pointed toward the ground to ask the group to lay low.  Nishimura gave him a nod, and Kisuke turned to face the trunk down on one knee. 

 

Levitating Benihime before him, he gave the handle a light tap, sending her into a slow spin.  She gathered speed, rotating like a fan, and at the opportune moment, Kisuke reached out for the hilt with both hands.   _Hadō number fifty eight, Tenran!_     

 

A tornado surged out of her blade, whirling and spreading out into a cone, enveloping the entire grove.  Kisuke twisted Benihime on one hand, signaling the squad to move in as the blast of kidō rendered the trees to matchsticks, scattering twigs and leaves in the air. 

 

He sped forward, leaving the two fallen Quincies for his teammates to deal with.  He had no interest in engaging with anyone but Soul Society's Most Wanted: the scar-faced Quincy.  Ever since the successful operation in Dejima last November, when the Quincy hideout had been compromised, forcing them to flee the city, the young man and an elder Quincy –quite possibly his father- had been identified as the de facto leaders of the stragglers. 

 

The spiritual signatures of the Quincy left standing lit up like candles in the air.  Kisuke could feel that his target was there, indeed, but there was no sign of the elder Quincy.  Matsuo's intelligence seemed to be accurate: he was likely the head a separate group on the other side of the forest, where her team was currently located, led by Captain Arima of the Fifth Division.

 

In the back of his mind, Kisuke recalled his orders, Matsuo's explicit instructions to fall back and request back up, should they encounter either of the two unnamed Quincy leaders.  He reasoned that withdrawing now made little sense.  The surviving Quincies would only escape again, leaving them with nothing to report but a positive sighting.  Kisuke made up his mind.  He sprinted ahead in pursuit of the scar-faced man and his two subordinates.  

 

Behind him, he could feel Nishimura and most of their group following suit as the three Quincies leapt from tree to tree, deeper into the grove.  Now flanked by Nishimura and Shirakawa, one of the Eleventh Division men, Kisuke readied Benihime, feeling her power pulse beneath his hand.  She was ready to raze the forest before them at his command, her heart thumping in sync with his.

 

Shirakawa Flash Stepped forward ahead of Kisuke and Nishimura, pushing himself to go faster, close the distance.  Kisuke had barely gotten a word out, meaning to ask him to hang back and watch his step, when there was a soft click, and Shirakawa stumbled.  Activating a trip wire.

 

Five slim, glowing, spear-like objects zoomed out of their hiding places in the adjacent trees.  Kisuke had no time to make out what exactly they were, but the configuration had been set up so they would all converge in the middle, where he was certain he had no desire to be in a second or so.  

 

Nishimura's cry echoed throughout the grove.  "DUCK!"

 

Already in middle of a dive, Kisuke cursed at Shirakawa, knowing now why their plan had gone so flawlessly.  They had been lured into a trap.  He braced himself for the fall, an explosion shaking the ground behind him, and tumbled straight for the thick underbrush ahead.

 

He came out of his roll, sparing only a quick glance at the blackened plot of earth behind him, before scrambling up to his feet.  There was a flash of white above him, and he could have sworn he saw the scar-faced Quincy smirk straight at him before he and his men dashed away.

 

Kisuke pursued them, ignoring the cries behind him, his jaw set.  He followed the signal of their spiritual signatures, until the trail suddenly went cold, not a sign of them in the vicinity.     

 

_DAMMIT!_

 

Not willing to give up just yet, Kisuke leapt up onto the crown of a tall tree, landing onto a sturdy bough that gave him a good visual of the surrounding area.  

 

For months, the Quincies had been moving from hideout to hideout in an effort to escape their relentless pursuers.  Their numbers had dwindled, but the rate at which they were taken down to the rate of Soul Reapers being gravely injured or outright killed was extremely off balance.

 

With the resources of Soul Society backing them and their numbers, Kisuke and his colleagues should have long ago wiped out the Nagasaki group, but their progress was glacial.  For a small crew of ten –previously fifteen- the Quincies had played their cards with the utmost care and had consistently come out on top.  They were clever, they were careful, and most importantly: they were powerful.

 

His blood boiling at his idiocy for having allowed his prey to escape, Kisuke combed the area with a near savage determination.  As the seconds ticked by with no clues in sight, he seriously considered picking a direction at random and giving chase.  Trying his luck was better than staying behind, listless.

 

"OI, URAHARA!"

 

Shutting his eyes, jaw clenched, Kisuke willed himself not to take his frustration out on Nishimura and took a deep, calming breath.  "Yes?"

 

"Are you deaf?  I've been calling and calling!" Nishimura said from down below.  "Get your ass back here, we're done for today.  Matsuo's orders."

 

"There's two more hours till dusk," Kisuke said, eyes still on the horizon.  "I'm not—"

 

"We have to get the injured to safety.   _Now_."

 

Kisuke resisted screaming at Nishimura to keep his mouth shut until he had taken a remedial course on basic healing.  The so-called  _injured_  would last another three hours before their condition became even a mild worry.  The hunt didn't need to end on their account.  Never dropping his eyes down, Kisuke continued to look for a sign,  _any_  sign.   _How do they keep vanishing like this?  There **has**  to be an explanation.  They need sustenance, but there are never any signs of hunting game, or fire,  **nothing**.  No underground passages, either.  How do they stay unseen, how do they—?_

 

"Urahara."

 

**_"Ignore him.  Go with your instinct; try your luck."_ **

 

_There must be something I'm missing, something—_

" _URAHARA_!"

 

**_"Stun him.  Just stun the moron and go—"_ **

_BE **QUIET** , BENIHIME!  We wouldn't even  **be**  in this mess right now if you hadn't—_ Nostrils flaring, Kisuke sheathed his weapon.  

 

It was the sudden spike of anger, the urge to physically hurt Nishimura, that made Kisuke realize once and for all that it was wise to abandon pursuit right now.  He was not thinking clearly, and if he actually managed to locate the Quincy in this state, he would very likely get himself hurt.  Sighing, he leapt off the tree, landing down to Nishimura's side.

 

**_"If I hadn't… what, exactly?"_ **

 

"About fucking time," Nishimura said, his black eyebrows joined together like a thick caterpillar nestled on his forehead.  "What the hell's the matter with you?"

 

"Nothing," Kisuke said, a touch more tersely than would be deemed appropriate when addressing a superior.  Running a hand through his hair, he turned to Nishimura, forcing his expression into one of remorse.  "I apologize," he said, then knelt down by the wounded.

 

What had once been a tree, where Shirakawa had activated the wire, was now a charred stump.  The surrounding area had been scorched by the blast, and all that remained was the blackened residue of the triggered weapons.  They had melted into a single, misshapen clump of metal, barely recognizable as the original five slim blades.  Kisuke made a mental note to bring the lump back to the outpost along with the wounded, study it at a later time.   

 

"Get it together, man," Nishimura said as he joined him.  His tone held no rancor, but it was clear he hadn't quite forgiven Kisuke for his attitude just yet.  "You're letting them get into your head."

****

**_"If I hadn't_ what _?"_**

 

_I thought I told you to be silent._

 

As he slung the unconscious Shirakawa's arm over his shoulder, Kisuke could feel Benihime's anger unfurl within him like a rising spiral of smoke.  It was more than mere fury, it was wrath borne out of betrayal, and she was not going to be forgetting about this insult any time soon.

 

 ** _"As the_ master _wishes."_**   

 

* * *

 

 

**OCTOBER 29 TH, 127 B.H.I., CORRECTIONS CORPS BUILDING, ONMITSUKIDŌ COMPLEX, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

****

Nose half-buried behind the folder in her hands, Yoruichi made her way down the corridor leading to Hideki's office.  The occasional fool that came across her would dodge out of the way – _Do they_ ** _really_** _think I can't sense them?-_  as she strode forward, bowing when she passed them by.  Yoruichi would offer a brief, though not unkind greeting in return, too absorbed in a perplexing little puzzle to offer more than a cursory hello.

 

To her horror, she was beginning to not only understand Kisuke a little better, but  _act_  like him, too.  If she began muttering and banging her head against the desk any time soon, she resolved to save the honor of her mercy-kill for Kūkaku.  Kisuke would just gloat.

 

Freeing one hand, she reached for the door, only to knock on nothing but air as it was pulled open from the inside.  Yoruichi looked up, coming face-to-face with Commander Sasagawa himself.  Hastily shoving the folder aside, she fell into a deep bow.  "Commander," she said.

 

Sasagawa smiled at her graciously and returned the gesture with a curt bow.  The four members of his personal guard stepped out into the corridor to flank him.  "First Officer Shihōin, good evening," he said.  "Working late, I see?"

 

Though officially off duty for nearly two hours now, Yoruichi had resolved not to return to her quarters until she had untangled the nagging mystery that had her imitating her far nerdier friend.  "Yes, sir," she said, straightening up.  "I needed to clear a small matter up with Sergeant Saito before retiring for the night."

 

"I will leave you to it, then," the Commander said.  "I would invite you to my quarters for a nightcap once you were through, but I'm afraid my day has been taxing, as well.  Another time, perhaps?"

 

"I— Of course, sir.  Whenever you wish," Yoruichi said.

 

"Have a good night, Officer."

 

"You, too, Commander."  Yoruichi bowed to him again, then stepped aside to allow him to pass.  Her eyes stayed on the black-clad figures that trailed behind him, his proposal odd enough to drive her to distraction.  Was the Commander in the habit of inviting minor officers to his quarters?  She highly doubted it, and wished he would stop showing her preferential treatment because of her name.  He was pleasant enough, and a fair superior, but she didn't want his familiarity to undo all the effort she was putting in distancing herself from the Shihōin heritage while at work.

 

Shaking her head, she recalled the original reason for her visit and turned to the ajar door, giving it a gentle rap as she peeked inside.

 

Hideki was slumped over his desk, one hand forked through his long black hair.  He raised his bleary amber eyes toward her, barely suppressing a yawn.  "Oh, hello, Yoruichi."

 

"Bad time?" she said, stepping inside and shutting the door behind her.  "This won't take long, I swear.  I just wanted to bring something to your attention."

 

Rubbing one eye with the back of his hand, Hideki held the other out, beckoning her forward.  "Sure, go ahead," he said.  "Sorry this place is a mess; I haven't—"    

 

"Don't worry about it, you look like you've had a long day," she said, handing him the folder she had been carrying.

 

Hideki tossed it atop the clutter on his desk, his eyes going in and out of focus as he tried to read its contents.  "Help me out here."

 

"It's the arrest form for Sugawara," Yoruichi said.  "Someone in processing messed up and didn't file all the necessary paperwork—"

 

"Please tell me you're here to bring me their head on a platter," Hideki said, scowling.  Errors filing paperwork were far too common with new recruits, and one of the biggest headaches for their division.

 

"I'm not naming them, they're sorry enough.  They know they screwed up and it won't happen again."

 

"Nice try with the  _they_.  It's a  _girl_ , isn't it?"

 

Yoruichi arched one eyebrow at him in censure, then went on.  "Anyway, it's  _done_ , but the problem is that once I sent them off to file the paperwork, they came back saying Sugawara was not in the system records," she said.  "Naturally, I assumed they'd messed up again, but they hadn't.  I checked myself.  The East Wing has no record of Sugawara, nor do the other three.  He's nowhere to be found."

 

Hideki frowned, pressing his fist against him mouth to keep his head propped up.  He went over the document again, eyes blinking tiredly every now and then.  "Sugawara… That was…" Hideki's eyes rolled up, face screwed into a grimace as he tried to remember.

 

"Last week.  October 25th."

 

"Oh!" Hideki said, his eyes widening as he made the connection.  It was brief, but Yoruichi saw the twitch in his jaw before he made a –quite frankly terrible- show of masking his momentary alarm.  "I remember now.  Sugawara is actually a special case."

 

"Special how?"

 

"His transfer to the East Wing was blocked at the last minute.  He has been placed under house arrest."

 

" _House arrest_?" Yoruichi said.  "The man is a trained Soul Reaper.  It took  _three_  of my troops to restrain him and we're just sending him back to his family after he was charged with aggravated assault?"

 

Hideki's fingers shook as he forked them back through his hair, his skin growing paler.  "It wasn't my decision, Yoruichi," he said, giving her a sympathetic shrug.  "All I know is he was selected for Commander Sasagawa's new program.  I don't know if you're familiar—"

 

"Yes, I'm familiar," Yoruichi said, regretting her curt tone, but her weariness was beginning to affect her, and this case was making less and less sense the more Hideki spoke.  "It's the reason I chose the Corrections Corps in the first place.  But the Commander's rehabilitation program is not even in effect yet, and more pertinently, it's meant for political prisoners.  Sugawara is a  _thug_."

 

"I don't know what to tell you," Hideki said, pinching the bridge of his nose and shutting his eyes.  "If you must, take it up with the Lieutenant, but I would advise you not to.  The matter is done.  Now… is there anything else?"

 

Yoruichi stared at Hideki.  It wasn't often that he employed the tone of a superior with her.  Though she treated him with the appropriate respect, they had grown close enough to be on a first-name basis, dispensing with formalities unless there were others present.  The fact that he had just implicitly pulled rank on her meant that this conversation was well and truly over.

 

"No, that is all," she said.  "Thank you for your time."

 

"Sorry I couldn't be of more help," he said, and he looked it.

 

Yoruichi's gaze swept over his tight lips, the genuine apology written in his eyes, and she nodded at him, exiting his office.  

 

* * *

 

 

**JULY 1 ST, 126 B.H.I., THIRTEENTH DIVISION GROUNDS, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

"I'm telling you, you're wasting your time," Nishimura said, as he walked alongside Kisuke toward the gates of the division grounds.  "You can't just drop in unannounced at a Captain's quarters and expect to be granted an audience, you know this."

 

"I'm not just  _dropping in_ ," Kisuke said.  "And one would think the Quincy War would be a priority for all involved."

 

Nishimura snorted.  "The  _war_?  War's practically over, man," he said, shaking his head.  "A handful of Quincies isn't a priority, it's a hassle.  And  _we're_  the ones who have to deal with it.  The Captains aren't gonna get involved any longer."

 

"Either way, this is important," Kisuke said.  Inside his pocket, his fingertips grazed over the stopper on the small vial.

 

"Important to  _who_?  Not Captain Hikifune, that's for sure."

 

"So you're comfortable knowing  _nothing_  about Quincies, even after we have fought them twice?" Kisuke said, turning to Nishimura.

 

Nishimura shrugged.  "We've also beaten them twice; what's there to nitpick?"

 

The fact alone that two Soul Reapers had fallen for every Quincy, including two Lieutenants and a Captain, was ample reason.  Soul Society should ignore the need for proper research on their enemy at their own peril.  And if Nishimura —like many others- couldn't recognize that they had won by virtue of numbers alone, there would be no convincing him otherwise with mere words.  

 

"Look, man, we've  _all_ been there, okay?  I get it," Nishimura said, a very knowing look in his eyes as he gave Kisuke a condescending pat on the back.  "But stop pretending this is about research _._ "

 

"Been  _where_?"

 

"Chasing after  _the one that got away_ ," Nishimura said, chuckling.  "You don't give a rat's ass about the rest of the Quincies, you just wanna get  _him_."

 

Kisuke chose not to dignify the accusation with a response.  Hurrying his pace, he strode past the division gates, eliciting a groan out of his colleague. 

 

"You know, you used to be a lot more fun before the damn Nagasaki operation!" Nishimura said.  When Kisuke didn't respond to that comment, either, Nishimura let out a loud sigh.  "Fine, whatever, go pester Captain Hikifune.  I'll let you know when Mr.Tall-Dark-and-Scarface makes a new appearance, shall I?"

 

Raising a hand in acknowledgement, Kisuke pressed on ahead and over to the adjacent compound, the Twelfth Division grounds.

 

Try as he might, he couldn't block out Nishimura's words entirely.  While he maintained that researching the enemy was his true goal, he couldn't deny part of him wouldn't rest until the elusive Quincy had been taken down.  Kisuke's own powers had been growing at a pace he might otherwise deem acceptable, but not in this case.  Not when the power divide between him and the Quincy remained a yawning chasm.  

 

Benihime's and his own failures aside, however, the need for better intel was undeniable.  Having lost even a Captain to this threat, it stood to reason that their ignorance of their enemy had put them at a great disadvantage.  If research had been conducted beforehand, Soul Society might have suffered far fewer losses.

 

Captain Hikifune of the Twelfth was the sole Captain known for trusting the scientific method.  An exception was, perhaps, the Fourth Division, but their own endeavors focused on gigai development.    

 

There were valid reasons for the long-held tradition of each Division being a separate entity, but Kisuke couldn't help thinking that it didn't necessarily have to be this way at all times.  An organized, inter-Divisional department dedicated to research would benefit the entirety of the Thirteen.  He didn't expect anything quite so lofty to spawn out of this possible meeting with Captain Hikifune.  Yet as he clopped up the stairs leading to the reception, Kisuke couldn't help but hope.  If he could get just one Captain to see the necessity of getting a Quincy project started, it could be a first step in the right direction.

 

The girl behind the desk, a blue-eyed brunette with short, springy curls, was in the middle of enjoying her lunch.  Though perhaps the word  _enjoying_ was a bit of an overstatement.  Eyes focused on the magazine laid open before her, she would occasionally miss as she brought the chopsticks toward the general vicinity of her mouth, hitting her cheek or her chin upon first try. 

 

"Excuse me," Kisuke said.

 

The girl glanced up, her pupils dilating for a spell.  She hurried to put her chopsticks down, giving her mouth a quick wipe with a napkin, then ran a hand through her curls.  "Er… yes, HELLO," she said, pushing her lunch away and smiling tremulously at him.  "Can I help you?"

 

"I understand this is an unusual request, but I was hoping for an audience with Captain Hikifune, concerning a potential research project," Kisuke said.  "Would it be possible to arrange something at her earliest convenience?"   

 

The girl's smile faltered.  Her expression shifted and she looked almost sympathetic, but before she could say anything, a loud voice from the back room reached the reception.

 

"Fuck's sake,  _another one_?" said the male voice.  "Is it a  _guy_  again?"

 

The receptionist fell into a stiff grin.  "You'll have to excuse Officer Hir—"

 

"CAPTAIN HIKIFUNE HAS BETTER THINGS TO DO."  The owner of the second voice, a woman this time around, peeked out of the corner that led to the back.  She was a small girl, and Kisuke was momentarily stunned that such a bellow could ever be produced from such a diminutive person.  "She ain't got the luxury to coddle slackers looking to waste someone's time," she said, then disappeared into the back room again with a swish of her twin, blonde ponytails.

 

"Right?" said the man who had spoken earlier, likely addressing the girl.  "Like, I get she's super hot and all, but—"

 

By the sound of it, a scuffle broke out following the man's words.  Seeing Kisuke's eyebrows arch at the commotion, the receptionist scurried to get his attention back to her and away from the embarrassing situation developing between her colleagues.

 

"I'm afraid it won't be possible to meet with Captain Hikifune, not unless it's on Twelfth Division business," she said.

 

As disappointing as it was to have his expectations confirmed, Kisuke didn't dwell on it, having known it had always been a long shot.

 

"I take it I'm not the first one to ask for a meeting with the Captain?" Kisuke said, motioning his head toward the back room.

 

"No, there have been a few others," the receptionist said, forcing a renewed smile on her face.

 

"Did you perchance get their names?" Kisuke said.  If he couldn't meet with Captain Hikifune, it might be a good idea to seek out a few like-minded individuals, perhaps to brainstorm, or share their insights.

 

An odd frown crossed the girl's features, one that hinted at wariness.  She glanced from side to side, as though trying to make certain they were alone in the reception area, then leaned forward over the desk.  "Is this whole project thing about Quincies, by any chance?" she said, her voice down to a whisper.  She looked like she was very much hoping that wasn't the case.

 

"Yes, why?"

 

"Okay," she said, biting down on her lip with a grimace.  "You look nice enough, certainly nicer than that  _freak_  who showed up last time—" Her voice dropped an octave when she spoke of the last person who had asked for some of the Captain's time, her face now screwed up in distaste.  "—so piece of advice?  Just… drop this, whatever it is." 

 

It was an involuntary reaction, almost a reflex, but Kisuke felt the muscle in his jaw twitch upon hearing that word:  _freak_.  He found himself instantly sympathizing with the complete stranger, as opposed to the girl before him, who –despite her helpfulness- now brought out no feeling from him other than aversion.

 

"So, that's a no on the names?" Kisuke said, trying his utmost to keep his voice measured and polite.

 

"I never caught the weirdo's name," the girl said, shrugging.  "But the one before him, the girl, she was with someone and I heard them call her as they were leaving.  Something like… Sesshōmaru?  I dunno.  She was from the Fifth Division, if that helps."

 

"Thank you," Kisuke said, and without another word, he exited the building, the girl's faint goodbye sending him off.

 

He stepped out into the grounds, nostrils flared and hands tucked into his pockets.  It only took a few steps before he came to a stop, a knot forming on his forehead.  In his preoccupation with the receptionist's choice of words, he hadn't given any weight to her advice.   _Or warning, rather._   It had certainly sounded like one.  The girl's cautionary tone, her reluctance to go into particulars...  It all brought to mind his first experiences with history classes in the Academy.  Despite the griping that always resulted from Harada's sermons, he'd had a point when it came to the glaring holes in their education.  Especially in regard to the Quincies.

 

 _Harada…_  Kisuke felt a bittersweet pang at the memory of him.   _Now there's a name I haven't thought about in years._

 

With his mind still on his erstwhile classmate, Kisuke considered his options.  He still had a couple of hours before he had to hand in his latest report.  It couldn't hurt to kill some time by heading over to the Fifth Division to see if he could locate this Sesshōmaru person.  Maybe she would be able to shed some light on the receptionist's cryptic warning.

 

Finding Sesshōmaru turned out to be a time-consuming task.  The name rang no bells for any passerby who sat still long enough for Kisuke to question.  He was beginning to think this had been a massive waste of time, when one of the lower-ranked Officers went into a pause.

 

"Sesshōmaru?  Do you mean  _Senjumaru_?" he said.

 

"Could be," Kisuke said.  "The person who gave me her name said she might have not heard right.  Is she… um—" Kisuke considered how to phrase this, unwilling to mention the girl's visit to the Twelfth Division, just in case the receptionist's wariness was justified.  He supposed that if Senjumaru held an interest for research, she was likely a regular in the library, or a person known for conducting her own experiments.  "—bookish?  A bit of a scholar, perhaps?"

 

"That's Senjumaru, alright.  Our Sixth Seat," the guy said, grinning.  "And you're in luck; she's right over there," he said, pointing at a young woman coming down the walkway that led out of the Captain's quarters.

 

Senjumaru was rail-thin, pale as chalk, with ink-black hair she wore up in a meticulous bun.  Under a thick, glossy fringe, her eyes, blue and slanted, regarded the world with a clever, penetrating gaze.  She was a striking woman, whose perfect posture and refined gait spelled out her heritage loud and clear.   _A noble.  Hopefully the Yoruichi type, but… doubtful._

 

"Thank you for your help," Kisuke said to the officer who had pointed her out.  "What's her last name, by the way?  I wouldn't want to be too familiar."

 

"Oh, don't worry about it;  _everyone_  calls her Senjumaru."

 

His own quick observations directly contradicted the officer's words, but Kisuke decided to trust him.  His best chance of getting Senjumaru to warm up to him would be to go with her wishes.  Perhaps her austere expression had a lot more to do with the fact that the Fifth Division was currently in mourning, having lost Captain Arima to the battlefield.

 

Kisuke thanked the officer again and approached Senjumaru, a genial smile on his face.  

 

As she came up to the end of the walkway only to find a stranger blocking her path, she scowled, staring down at him imperiously.  "Yes?"

 

"Hello," Kisuke said.  "My name is Urahara Kisuke, I'm an Officer from the Thirteenth Division.  Forgive me for the intrusion, but may I have a moment of your time, Senjumaru?"  

 

The girl's fine black eyebrows came together in a slim line, her lips pursing.  "That is  _Officer Shutara Ayako_  to you, and no, you may  _not_."

 

 _Shit._   Of course this was a prank.   _Thank you, random asshole.  And people wonder why I have trust issues._   The moniker –for now it was clear that Senjumaru was just that- didn't sound offensive or anything of the sort, unless there was a very specific action attributed to said one thousand arms.  Whichever the case, it mattered little why Shutara had had such an adverse reaction to it; now was the time for damage control.

 

"My sincerest apologies," Kisuke said in a hurry.  "I was never given your full name, just—"

 

"The answer is still no."

 

"Could I perhaps contact you at a later date, if now is not suitab—?"

 

"No."

 

 _Damn, tough crowd._   "I understand," Kisuke said, nodding.  "Once again, my apologies for disturbing you.  Should you change your mind, you can reach me at the Thirteenth Division's barracks, or Captain Hikifune's laboratory on Thursdays.  Have a good day."

 

Turning around, Kisuke slipped his hands in his pockets, walking away from Shutara.   _Three, two, one…_

 

"Urahara… was it?  Officer Urahara?"

 

Kisuke smirked, then schooled his expression back into an affable one before looking over his shoulder toward Shutara.  "Yes, Officer Shutara?"

 

"You said you're from the Thirteenth Division," Shutara said, seizing him up with both interest and a hint of mistrust.  "But you work with Captain Hikifune, as well?"

 

Kisuke smiled at her.  "Could it be that you have changed your mind?"

 

Shutara scowled, now visibly considering his invitation to talk.  After a long bout of vacillating, she approached him, a furtive expression on her delicate features.  "I can spare fifteen minutes," she said.  "Has Captain Hikifune reviewed my proposal?"

 

Kisuke made a show of examining their surroundings before turning back to Shutara, dropping his voice.  "I would rather not discuss this out in the open, if that's alright with you.  Is there perhaps a private space where we could speak?"

 

The girl nodded, then motioned at him to follow, heading back toward the direction she had come from.  "The Captain's quarters are in the process of being vacated," she said, as she led him up the walkway.  "I have been tasked with inventory, so my presence there isn't likely to raise suspicion."

 

"My condolences, by the way," Kisuke said.  "For Captain Arima.  She fought courageously to the end."

 

"You were there?" Shutara said, her sharp gaze softening.  "In Nagasaki?"

 

"I have been stationed there intermittently for the past two years.  Every report that reached us from the battlefield spoke of her valiance."

 

"You're a senior officer, then?"

 

"Fifth Seat."

 

Shutara nodded and Kisuke could spot a hint of discomfort in her expression.  "Senjumaru..." she said after a brief pause, her voice trailing off.  "It is a nickname I only allow those dear to me to use."  It was the closest to an apology he was likely to get, and he suspected she had only offered it because she regretted being so brusque with a superior.

 

"I see," Kisuke said.  "I was misinformed then.  Though, if I may, it sounds nothing but complimentary."

 

"I suppose so.  It does seem to be catching on, at any rate."

 

Kisuke followed her into the Captain's quarters, sidestepping the many labelled boxes that had been piled by the entrance.  Few of Captain Arima's belongings remained within the room, mostly effects that appeared to be more personal than books and equipment, like the few pieces of art collecting dust on the floor, or an empty vase by the seating area that looked like it might have been crafted and painted by a child.

 

A gleam of light filtered in through the half-closed blinds, dust particles dancing in the ray's spectrum as Shutara placed a well-manicured hand upon the empty desk.  "Alright, Officer Urahara, I'm listening," she said.  "Did Captain Hikifune ask you to contact me?"

 

"I wouldn't know; I've never met her."

 

"You hav—?  You said you worked in her lab," Shutara said, her brow creasing.

 

"Actually, I never said that," Kisuke said.  "You merely assumed—"

 

He had been prepared for actual, physical violence, but Shutara merely gave a huff, clearly about to walk away.  Not wasting time thanking his good fortune, Kisuke pulled out the small vial he'd been carrying with the intention of showing it to Captain Hikifune and held it up before Shutara.

 

She came to a halt, her shoulders seizing up as she took in its contents.  "Is that what I think it is?"

 

"It is."

 

Shutara narrowed her eyes at him, and unless he was very much mistaken, she was making a concentrated effort not to appear impressed.  "How did you acquire this?" she said, reaching for the vial.  As a measure of good faith and an apology for his earlier deception, Kisuke let her take it, trusting that she wouldn't try to make a run for it.  "I have been trying to convince someone to collect a sample for me for  _months_.  They were all categorical that Quincy light arrows dissolve upon impact."

 

"Upon impact with objects in the Material World, yes," Kisuke said, smirking.  "But they  _are_  designed to affect Spiritual Matter."

 

"Anecdotal evidence suggests Spiritual Matter doesn't carry traces of light arrows after penetration, either."

 

"Correct, not after.  But during?"

 

Shutara's lips parted.  Not bothering with any more pretense, she regarded him with new eyes as she reached the inevitable conclusion.  "Did you—?  You extracted your own matter… during…?"

 

"It was a little tricky to get the timing right," Kisuke said.  "To the casual observer, yes, the light arrows do not linger.  They do their work on a particle level, so if you secure the point of entry with a small barrier in time, you got yourself a sample."

 

"This kind of method would only net trace amounts, whatever lingers on the tissues momentarily," Shutara said, observing the small, shard-like flash of bright blue trapped within the vial.  "How many times did you do this?"

 

"Let's just say it has been a painful few months."

 

A smile, even a hint of one, made a world of difference on Shutara's stern face.  He knew then, that he had gained her trust with his dedication to acquiring a viable sample.  "So what exactly was going to happen if I had decided to reach out to Captain Hikifune's lab and was told they had no idea who you were?"

 

"To be honest, I was planning on hanging out by the entrance every Thursday until you showed up."

 

Shutara laughed, then handed him the vial back.  "I assume you were given the same spiel about not digging further into the matter of Quincies?"

 

"More or less," Kisuke said, pocketing the sample again.  "Any idea what that's all about?"

 

"No specifics, but I have my suspicions," Shutara said, her face clouding.  It was an entirely different look to her earlier somber expression.  She now appeared to be deeply disturbed.  "Have you noticed that a number of Soul Reapers have unexpectedly quit their duties as of late?  Able-bodied recruits, people who seemingly had no reason for leaving the Thirteen."

 

Kisuke had no knowledge of Soul Reapers leaving the Thirteenth Division, but Shutara's words hearkened back to an older event, to a person Kisuke had coincidentally been musing about earlier.  Only there was no such thing as a coincidence.

 

"Just the one," Kisuke said.  "A classmate, back at the Academy.  There have been more?"

 

"A few, yes," Shutara said.  "I never thought much of it; it's not unheard of for Soul Reapers to go a different direction at some point in life.  But then it happened to someone I know for a  _fact_  was also seeking an audience with Hikifune.  Regarding Quincy research."

 

"The receptionist at the Twelfth mentioned another," Kisuke said, nodding.  "Did you happen to catch his name?  All I got from her was that he is a  _freak_ ," he said, frowning.

 

"Well, she's not wrong."  Upon Kisuke's arched eyebrow, she shrugged.  "The girl is an insipid airhead, no arguments there, but she does have a point about that… person.  We crossed paths on the day I tried to reach out to the Captain.  Apparently it was his second visit.  He said a few demeaning things to the girl, she started sniveling, and then he suggested she either grow thicker skin or have her tear glands removed.  It had the potential of being amusing, until he actually went on to display how he'd had his  _own_  tear glands removed.  Among other things, if his semi-coherent ramblings held any truth."

 

"Oh."

 

"Exactly," Shutara said.  "At any rate, I'm not surprised someone like him was asked to pack up and leave the Thirteen, but the timing was suspicious, wasn't it?  Once I started looking into other dismissals, I noticed a pattern: according to their colleagues, none of the Soul Reapers in question had ever expressed any desire to leave the organization."

 

Kisuke thought of Harada's sudden departure, of his roommate's insistence that there had been no note, no prior warning.  Mostly, however, his thoughts lingered on Harada's outspoken nature and his trademark political rants.  Especially his questioning of the circumstances behind the renewed Quincy attacks, on the day of the fateful Kyōto mission.

 

"I assume that's about the time you stopped investigating?" Kisuke said.

 

Shutara nodded.  "I had a feeling I was going to be kindly asked to leave my post if I kept digging," she said.  "As little sympathy as I hold for Quincies, the Thirteen's refusal to do proper research on our enemies is idiotic.  We cannot afford to turn a blind eye to anyone, not even forces we have conquered."

 

Kisuke wasn't certain he agreed with Shutara's dismissal of the Quincies' side, but he had no desire to turn away the only person who could potentially offer some insight to his own observations so far.  "So… since asking for Captain Hikifune's help is a dead-end, would you consider exchanging notes with me?" Kisuke said.  "Discreetly, of course."

 

"I'm afraid I have little to share in the way of breakthroughs," she said, a look of frustration on her face.  "Only senior officers have been deployed to the warfront, so any notes I have compiled are only from second-hand recounting of events.  I  _have_  tried to extrapolate a few theories based on them, but I obviously cannot vouch for the accuracy of the information outlined within."

 

"I see."

 

"What I can do, however," she said.  "Is send a number of reports from my Division your way.  Perhaps there will be some information in there you can use."

 

"That could be helpful, thank you."

 

"Can I expect to be extended the same courtesy?"

 

"Of course," Kisuke said.  "I'll see about copying some of the more salient reports for you."

 

"I enjoy the works of Sasaki.  Especially his one poetry anthology.  Are you familiar with it?"

 

"Vaguely."

 

"Then I suggest you take a break every now and then in between compiling those reports," Shutara said.  "It might prove to be an interesting read.  Good day, Officer Urahara." 

 

Kisuke watched her go, making a mental note of securing a copy of Sasaki's poetry soon.  As a Sixth Seat, Shutara was not granted access to reports from separate divisions, but a set of notes in cipher was something she would certainly have no trouble explaining.

 

Shortly after her departure, Kisuke followed suit, making his way back to the Thirteenth.  Encouraging though his brief discussion with Shutara had been, he had no high hopes for the information he might glean from their cooperation.  With extensive research a no-go, it seemed that he had now completely run out of options.

 

_Well... almost._

 

There was one last thing he could try.  And if he were being entirely honest with himself, he had made the choice long ago, before any attempts to disguise it had ever crossed his mind.

 

_It is time._

 

Whether certain interested parties were ready or not.

 

* * *

**NOVEMBER 13 TH, 126 B.H.I., THE TRAINING GROUNDS, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

She was pure steel, all muscle, her movements never wasteful, always precise.  It should have made for a spectacle completely devoid of grace, but there was such unspeakable beauty in the flow of her body, such artistry in the swing of her arm, the arc of her leg.  Her power flowed from within her like stream, serene and unassuming, until it reached the edge, cresting, bursting forth into a raging torrent.   

 

It had taken him so long to learn not to lose himself watching her as they sparred, that slipping back into old habits was instinctively raising alarms all throughout his body.  But today he  _needed_  to observe, he needed to watch, to wait for the opportune moment.  

 

As Kisuke thrust forward with his weapon, Yoruichi dodged, the blade whistling past her ear, and she immediately went into a crouch.  Right hand touching the ground, she used her momentum to swing her powerful left leg up into a scorpion kick.  Ready for her, Kisuke blocked with his free arm, already feeling the bruise that would be forming tomorrow.

 

Instead of bringing her entire might into the kick, however, she used the force of his block to swing her leg back to the ground, and fell into a deep squat, like a predator about to pounce.  And there it was: when she pulled her arm back, he could see it, the familiar movement of her muscles, he could feel the spiritual matter coil like a spring in her abdomen, ready to be unleashed through her clenched fist.

 

He leapt backwards to give himself the necessary space just as she sprung forth, and he raised Benihime, giving the handle the merest flick of his wrist.  "Tsuppane, Benihime!"

 

Yoruichi's fist was forced to a halt just a hair's breadth away from Benihime's tip.  Out of the point of near-contact, a small shockwave rippled through the air between them, like an invisible barrier shattering to pieces.  Kisuke allowed himself only a millisecond of enjoying the shock in her eyes, before he Flash Stepped right behind her and brought Benihime down to her neck.

 

It took a moment for Yoruichi to relax her position, her eyes wide and focused still on the space he had occupied only a moment ago.  Panting, she let her arm drop, turning her head just a fraction in his direction.  " _That_  was new," she said, a rivulet of sweat streaming down the path from her nape toward her back.

 

"Mmm.  Quite," Kisuke said, then drew Benihime away, the spirit's purr at his victory a gentle stroke down his spine as he re-sheathed her.

 

Yoruichi turned to face him fully, one eyebrow chasing her hairline, but Kisuke's mind was already otherwise occupied.  He made no effort to decode her questioning look.

 

It was ready, then, the new technique.  If he could use it against Yoruichi's speed, he could use it on anyone someone of his rank could conceivably be pit against.  Soon enough, he would even be able to skip the incantation without significant repercussions to power, just like he could for Benihime's other two shikai abilities.

 

And yet she was  _still_  not satisfied.

 

He went through the motions mechanically, settling down on the ground for his and Yoruichi's usual healing routine after a spar, his thoughts still clinging to Benihime. 

 

_I bet you're loving this._

 

Her only response was a deep, throaty chuckle he felt all the way down to his stomach, as though she were right there, black lips hovering by his ear, warm breath caressing his neck.

 

"What's with you?  _I'm_  the one who just lost."

 

Kisuke looked up at the sound of Yoruichi's voice, his hand pausing over her wounded calf.  Lower back resting against the ground, she had raised herself up on her elbows and was scowling at him.  "Hnnn?"

 

"You look pissed off," Yoruichi said.  "You didn't even brag about beating me.  What's wrong?"

 

Kisuke shook his head at her.  "Nothing.  I'm not angry," he said.   _Not with **you** , at least._

 

Yoruichi pursed her lips.  "So… New technique," she said, as Kisuke placed one hand on the pit of her knee and pulled her leg straight by the ankle.  "Yay."

 

"Yay, indeed."

 

With a frustrated growl, Yoruichi yanked her leg away.  It slipped out of his slack grasp like an eel, and she slammed the pad of her foot against his chest, trapping one hand there.  "Okay,  _what_ is up with you?"

 

Part of him hesitated to speak because he didn't want Benihime to listen in, but what was the point, really?  She was already privy to his every thought.  What he had to tell Yoruichi, Benihime already knew, from the moment it had crossed his mind.  And she was relishing in his frustration.

 

Kisuke placed Yoruichi's leg down gently, then ran a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh.  "It's taking too long."

 

"What is?"

 

"Bankai."

 

Yoruichi sat up so fast, he saw her waver on the spot for just a second, the blood rushing to her head.  "Since when have you been training for bankai?" she said, her tone pregnant with something akin to betrayal.

 

"I haven't," Kisuke said.  "Not specifically.  But I  _should_  be at materialization by now and I'm not even close."

 

All the tension was instantly siphoned off her expression, and Yoruichi scoffed, smirking at him.  "Yes, well, I've known you for over a century and only last year did I learn you prefer sweet dango to savory, you heretic," she said.  "It takes time to get to know anyone, let alone your Soul Cutter."

 

" _Ten years_?  Seems like such a waste of time."

 

"I'm sure Benihime is  _thrilled_  to hear that."

 

"That's not what I meant…" Kisuke said, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

The point was that he felt ready  _now_ , and he couldn't possibly fathom what more Benihime could expect out of him until she at least consented to materialize.  His powers were growing every single day, their communication had never been better.  It was time.  

 

"At any rate, it's ten years minimum, and only after you've fully mastered shikai," Yoruichi said.  "You're still developing yours."

 

"It's plenty developed, already!" Kisuke said, the balls of his hands digging into the ground as he dropped his weight back on his arms, head lolling backwards.  "I've  _never_  been more focused, more in-tune with Benihime and she still refuses—" He let out a huff, head dropping forward again, his brow knit.  "She won't materialize, no matter what I do or say."

 

"Which should tell you that it's  _too soon_ ," Yoruichi said, pushing herself up to her feet and starting to stretch.  "There are no shortcuts to this, Kisuke.  You'll just have to be patient.  In the grand scheme of things, ten years are nothing to someone like us.  It may seem like forever now, but they'll go by faster than you think.  So stop pouting like a baby."

 

"I'm not  _pouting_ ," Kisuke said, pouting.

 

Without bankai, he had no hope in hell of defeating  _him_ , and if he took too long to reach bankai, someone else was likely to get the job done.  The mere thought made his blood boil, this primal, territorial urge one he dared not speak of out loud.  But  _she_  knew.  Benihime.  With her, hiding was impossible.

 

When he and Yoruichi bid each other farewell, Kisuke took the long way home, opting to go for a walk to clear his head.  Yoruichi's words were still ringing in his ears. 

 

_Too soon._

 

What was  _too soon_ , anyway?  Who had decided on this arbitrary number?  Bankai was, after all, the benchmark all Soul Reapers aimed for, but few ever came close to touching in the first place.  Bankai itself  _was_  the exception to the rule, so why frame something already so extraordinary within ordinary parameters?

 

There was, of course, the question of whether it was within his reach at all.  However, much like he hadn't shared his innermost thoughts with Yoruichi earlier on, he had also never shared his conviction that in his mind, bankai was not only a possibility for him, but a certainty.

 

 ** _"Careful, boy… You're getting dangerously close to being truthful with yourself.  And we wouldn't want_ that _, would we?"_**  

 

He was still fuming over Benihime's remark by the time he returned home.  It was a habit from the early stages of their relationship, her calling him any number of belittling names other than his own.  It was also further proof of the anecdotal evidence that suggested a Soul Cutter spirit would resist submission, even though bankai was meant to benefit both parties.  The only problem was that such conflict only ever arose when the spirit was already at the materialization stage.  Otherwise, it was a sign that the relationship between Soul Reaper and weapon was regressing back to an earlier phase.

 

Unwilling to torture himself over this any longer, Kisuke decided to give his mind a well-needed break from her.  Perhaps he would be able to distract himself long enough for Benihime to go dormant, allowing him to get some sleep later on that night. 

 

It was hours before he thought of her again, occupied as he was with setting up a new booting algorithm for Fleshy.  When he reconnected the power source, the core buried deep within the gigai's chest glowed a deep red, almost the exact color of her kimono.      

 

 _If only it were that easy,_  he thought as he looked at the gigai.   _Just slip her into a synthetic body and—_

 

The wrench fell off his hand to the floor with a clang, but he paid it little mind, his eyes widening and his lips parting.

 

_Well… why the hell not?_

 

A gigai was a receptacle for a soul.  Why not a receptacle for  _part_  of his soul? 

 

Head spinning, Kisuke scrambled across the lab, diving under his desk to the crate filled with blank journals, all of them aching to be filled.  He pulled out a new one, then blindly pawed around for something,  _anything_ to write with.  His fingers closed upon a piece of charcoal on the surface of his cluttered desk and he turned to the first page, his hand flying over the paper in large, purposeful strokes:

 

_MODIFIED GIGAI PROJECT:_

_TENSHINTAI_

 

* * *

 

 

**JANUARY 10 TH, 125 B.H.I., COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

Her lunch mates spotted him before she did.

 

As Yoruichi read through the document before her, cup of warm tea in hand, a low murmur rose from the table.  She looked up, finding her subordinates' attention focused on the entrance.  She followed their gaze, and sure enough, there was Kisuke.  They had seen him in her company often enough to know he was trustworthy, but his current state hinted otherwise.  Their eyes met and Yoruichi knew what she was about to hear, without a single gesture or a word spoken.  She excused herself, getting up off her seat and walking up to him.

 

From up close, she was glad to see that despite the glint in his eyes, he appeared to be well-rested and lucid.  For months now, every time they'd crossed paths he had looked positively manic.  Wild hair and eyes, unable to focus for longer than a few seconds, fingers constantly on the move, either drumming on a surface, or fidgeting with his hair and clothes.  When she'd ask about his project, he would respond with a dismissive wave and a frustrating  _Not yet_.

 

The last time he'd looked marginally normal had been nine days ago.  She had assumed that it had been a concession on account of their birthday.  That he had made an effort to crawl out of whatever hole he had dug himself into, and tried to behave more like a person.  Even then, he must have been close to a breakthrough.

 

Kisuke came to a stop right before her and leaned in, a little breathless.  "Will you come with me to the training grounds?" he said, voice dropped down to a whisper.  "I have something to show you."

 

"I take it the experiment is over?"

 

Kisuke bit down on his lower lip, a small but exultant grin on his face.  "I did it," he said.  "I figured out the answer."

 

"To what?"

 

"Bankai."  He said it slowly, one syllable at a time, dragging out the  _n_ , triumph written all over his grey eyes. 

 

Yoruichi's knees jerked of their own accord at the revelation.  Bankai?   _That's_ what he'd been working on all this time?  Hadn't their last conversation on the matter convinced him it was futile to expect a result so soon?  "But—"

 

"Half an hour; that's all I need to get you up to speed."

 

"I… Okay."

 

Holding up a finger to him, she rushed to the table.  Under pretext of a vague emergency, she bid her men farewell, promising to have the week's assignments ready by nightfall.  She tossed her share of the bill on the table and hurried back to Kisuke.

 

Without a word, they left the pub and fell into the familiar steps in tandem.  She reached the Training Grounds first, but Kisuke didn't even feign annoyance at having lost the implicit race, as he usually did.  Instead, he flashed her a smile and motioned at her to follow as he jumped off the edge of the cliff that lay before them.

 

They landed with a thud into a deep, spacious valley that Yoruichi had never seen before. 

 

"Did you do this?" she said, taking in the area.  Excluding the cliff they had just leapt off, the area was a flat expanse of sturdy ground on either side.

 

"Had to be done.  I have a feeling we'll be needing all the room we can get," Kisuke said, admiring his handiwork.

 

"For… bankai training."

 

Unable to smother a self-satisfied grin – _Really, you idiot, I know you're a damn genius, enough with the foreplay-_  he bent down.  There was some sort of object lying beneath a sheet by his feet.  He lifted it off, then pulled something white and sturdy up to him.

 

It was more or less human sized, of average height and flat as a board, with sharp, oddly shaped appendages.  A slim piece of cord linked its right clavicle and left shoulder together.  The overall effect was clearly meant to evoke a rudimentary image of a person, like a crudely made doll.  

 

"You thought we might give ol' cookieman here a try if we get too tired hitting each other?" Yoruichi said.

 

" _This_  is a Tenshintai," Kisuke said, grinning as he placed an arm upon the doll's shoulder.  "And it's meant to speed up the process of achieving bankai."

 

She should have known by now that Kisuke would  _never_  settle for conventional time frames.  They had never applied to him, after all.  Yoruichi bypassed the obvious question in favor of the one that burned her the most.  "Have you tried it, then?" she said, unsure of whether to be impressed or envious, or even feel a little left out.

 

"No, not yet.  Unfortunately, this is not the kind of thing you can do more than once," he said.  "But if things work as intended, it should be a matter of three to four days."

 

"You mean years."

 

"I mean days."

 

"…Months?"

 

"No.   _Days_ ," Kisuke said, his grin becoming even broader. 

 

It was plain as day he was savoring her disbelief.  Shortening the process down to three years would've been a tremendous achievement.  Shortening it down to three  _days_ was downright inconceivable.

 

Yoruichi gaped at him, mouth flapping open and shut like a fish.  "But… You… But… You can't—  _How_?"

 

Normally, she wouldn't have doubted Kisuke's claims on scientific matters.  Experience had taught her he never shared so much as a glimpse of his outlandish projects before they were perfected, unless he needed help with testing.  He liked his theatrics too much to leave room for error during the grand unveiling. 

 

Still, Yoruichi was having a hard time believing him.  She didn't doubt his honesty, she simply didn't think his goal was attainable.  Not even for someone of his dizzying intellect.

 

Setting the Tenshintai down, Kisuke approached her, digging one hand into his pocket.  He retrieved a small lump of some type of white substance and held it out before her.  "This is the same material the Tenshintai was built with.  Take out your Soul Cutter and stab it."

 

Yoruichi narrowed her eyes at the substance.  "What'll happen when I do?"

 

"That's what you'll tell me.  Nothing horrible, though, I assure you," he said, placing the lump on the ground.

 

With no small amount of trepidation, Yoruichi unsheathed Maya.  "All right… Here we go," she said.  Clenching her jaw, she took a deep breath and plunged her Soul Cutter into the white, spongy clump.

 

The effect was immediate.  There was a hissing sound, and the lump began to change form, the surface stretching, membrane-like, as if something tiny trapped within was trying to escape. 

 

"Stand back," Kisuke said.

 

Yoruichi didn't need to be told twice.  She retreated, Soul Cutter at the ready, but whatever was supposed to happen never did.  The lump took on an intense, strangely familiar glow, then burst into a thousand infinitesimal pieces.  Yoruichi shielded herself for impact, but the explosion turned out to be insignificant.  Just as she opened her eyes, however, she saw that something had managed to escape.  Most likely the object concealed in the lump.

 

Instinctively, she pulled out Maya again, only to see that the tantō's tip was missing.  Before she had time to do more than blink, whatever had escaped the explosion zoomed straight at her, and Yoruichi felt her jaw go slack as she saw it attach itself to her Soul Cutter.  It was as though she were witnessing Maya's shikai release in reverse: instead of crumbling away, the blade was being reconstructed piece by piece, until it was restored back to its full, proper shape.     

 

_What… what the hell…?_

 

From behind, she heard Kisuke approach.  Kneeling down beside her, he balanced on the pads of his feet.  He rested his arms on his knees, giving her a knowing look.  "Well?" he said.

 

"That… glow," Yoruichi said, gaping at the empty air where the lump had been just seconds before.  "It felt— Was it… alive?" For the briefest of moments, she had felt it: the brush of spiritual pressure.

 

"Nearly," Kisuke said, smirking.  "You recognized it, yes?  The spirit within, its spiritual signature?"

 

Of course she had.  She would have recognized it in a sea of other spiritual entities with her eyes closed and her ears shut.  "Maya," Yoruichi said.  Her Soul Cutter.

 

"The receptacle was deliberately small, so it would dissipate before it had taken full form.  Care to guess what would happen if you stabbed the Tenshintai instead?"

 

Yoruichi's entire back broke out in cold sweat and she turned to meet Kisuke's eyes.  She had spent decades deciphering his expressions; the way his eyes glowed with warmth when he was relaxed, the sharp intelligence and playfulness usually directed at her, the way the irises turned cloudy when he was sad, the way they turned cold and piercing when he was angry. 

 

But this… this was different.  It was a rare look, the kind he only saved for special occasions, when he was triumphant, a little too much in love with that brain of his and the more refined manifestations of its brilliance.

 

"This is…" she said, voice wavering.  "Forced materialization."

 

"Mmmm- hm."

 

Yoruichi shook her head at him, scoffing.  There was little she had ever thought him incapable of to begin with, but she was starting to believe there truly was no problem he couldn't solve.  If she were being perfectly honest, she wasn't certain his invention was a good idea in practice, but it was pointless to deny that as an achievement, it was beyond extraordinary.  Not to mention supremely iconoclastic, even for  _him_.

 

"How does Benihime feel about this?" she said.  She couldn't imagine any Soul Cutter spirit would take kindly to such an affront.  Especially one like Benihime, if Kisuke's throwaway comments over the years had painted an accurate picture.

 

His rueful smile confirmed her suspicions.  "Ever since I started working on this, she has refused to even go in shikai release," he said.  "On the upside, my kidō usage and hand-to-hand combat have never been in better shape."

 

Yoruichi pushed herself up from her knees.  "Kisuke, this is an  _amazing_  invention.  I mean it.  But are you sure—?"

 

"I know it's a gigantic gamble, believe me," he said, following suit.  "And you don't even know the half of it."  Letting out a sigh, arms akimbo, he turned to her, a renewed sense of excitement on his face.  "Shall I answer your first question, then?  The how?" 

 

"Ohhhh, I think I'm starting to piece together the how," Yoruichi said, folding her arms.  "This wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that you've been living on noodles for the past few months, now, would it?"

 

It was his turn to goggle at her.  "How…?"

 

"I noticed your cupboards were full of nothing  _but_  noodles when I came over for our birthday," she said.  "Did you blow  _all_  your money on this?"

 

"I— Not  _all_  of it, but I will admit, the base material was costly—"

 

"Kisuke—"

 

"This wasn't something I could build myself in a reasonable amount of time," he said.

 

"What  _is_  that substance, even?  How is such a thing available in the market?"

 

"It's not," Kisuke said.  "Not in  _that_ form, at least.  What I purchased was actually the raw material used in gigai, and then modified it.  And before you ask, no, I couldn't just strip Fleshy; I needed something newer and stronger, more flexible.  Gigai convert spiritual particles into physical matt— Well, no, actually, it's a facsimile of actual matter, but anyway.  I needed something that converted one form of spiritual matter into another, you know, from blade to actual body, so I pretty much had to go over the thing inch by inch and alter its makeup, so yes, I needed good quality base material, don't look at me like that.  I make enough money, I'll be fine!" he said making a flippant gesture.  "What's important is that this could  _revolutionize_  the way we approach bankai!"

 

"By making it readily available?"

 

"Oh goodness, no," Kisuke said with an affected shudder.  "I would never allow anyone of mediocre talent to use this.  It's too dangerous."

 

Well, he  _did_  always know how to pique her interest.  Sighing, Yoruichi gave him an only half-hearted punch on the arm, her lips pursed.  "Next time you need money,  _ask_ ," she said.  "So… Are you going to explain what this…Tenshintai actually does, or are you going to keep rambling on about materials?"

 

His earlier excitement returning full-force, Kisuke walked over to the Tenshintai and picked it up.  "As you saw yourself, when you stab it with your Soul Cutter, it forces the spirit to materialize."

 

"Right," Yoruichi said, nodding.  "But what happens next?  If this thing is like a gigai, what's stopping the spirit from leaving it?  And even if it couldn't, you can't keep the spirit materialized forever, can you?  Why should it consent to ever return to sword form, and how would it even begin—?"

 

"Okay, okay, one thing at a time," Kisuke said, chuckling.  "As far as your first question goes, well spotted, that was my first concern.  And  _this_ —" He pointed at the cord connecting the clavicle to the shoulder.  "—Is what keeps it inside.  But we'll get to that in a moment.  According to the literature, materialization, even when it happens naturally, takes a toll on the body.  It's parting with a piece of your soul, after all, however temporarily."

 

"Right, exactly," Yoruichi said, glad to see they were on the same page.  She was about to let him continue, when something he'd mentioned earlier finally clicked, and she did the mental math.  "Wait, is that what this whole three-to-four days deal was all about?" 

 

"Correct again," Kisuke said, grinning at her.  "That wasn't me issuing a challenge; it's how long I estimate I could endure.  And it's not a set number.  In theory, the larger one's pool of spiritual energy, the longer they can last before the strain on their soul becomes unbearable.  But in reality, it's a little more complicated than that."

 

"Meaning?"

 

"In any equation you have your constants and your variables.  There are certain limits no soul can go beyond before it completely loses its internal structure and self-destructs.  Those are  _facts_ , the constants.  Then there's you and your Soul Cutter, the variables," he said.  "How much punishment can  _you_  take before you go down?  How will your opponent choose to fight?  Will they take it nice and slow, examine your every movement, or will they be aggressive, keeping you cornered the whole fight?  From what you've told me of Maya, she is clever and patient.  She would toy with you until she had a clear opening.  But Benihime… she would be out for blood from the get-go," he said.  "You see?"

 

Yoruichi nodded, liking the idea less and less the more Kisuke explained.  "What happens in the end?"

 

"Obviously you either win or lose the fight.  If you win, you have achieved bankai, hurray.  If not… well... I imagine it would set the relationship with your Soul Cutter back by many years, destroying all foundation of trust."

 

"Kisuke…" Yoruichi said, her stomach churning.  "This is—"

 

"A gamble, like I said," he said.  "I'm not even sure I can do it."

 

"But you'll try anyway," Yoruichi said, sighing.

 

"Well, of course.  This isn't the kind of experiment you use test subjects for.  The theory can only tell me so much, but you can see, can't you, the thousands of ways this could go wrong?  This is a volatile experiment that could be fatal to anyone, no matter how skilled.  I  _have_  to do it myself."

 

"Then what am I doing here?"

 

Kisuke turned to look at her, disbelief contorting his face into a grimace.  "You didn't honestly think I'd make you go through this  _first_?"

 

"I—" 

 

Yoruichi bit her lip to stop herself from saying anything she might regret.  The honest answer was  _Yes_.  At least it had been at first.  Until Kisuke had fully explained the nature of his creation, she had imagined they would either take it in turns, or that he would overlook and assist should he need to.  Given all the information, she now understood this wasn't something he had ever meant for anyone else to test.

 

"No," she said.  "But then… did you just want to show me…?"

 

"That, too.  But I do need your help," Kisuke said, one hand snaking up to his nape.  "Remember how you wondered what keeps the spirit locked inside the Tenshintai?"

 

"Yes?"

 

Kisuke slipped his hand to his pocket, withdrawing a cord identical to the one outfitted on the Tenshintai.  "The cord on the Tenshintai makes sure the spirit stays put, but it won't hold on its own for more than a few hours.  Five at the most.  In order to operate at full capacity, it needs to be constantly fed spiritual pressure.  Which is done by channelling it into its companion here," he said, holding up the second cord.  "Clearly, I cannot do this myself while in combat; I would run out of energy in less than half a day."

 

"Oh, I see.  But wouldn't you rather… y'know… ask someone with greater spiritual pressure?" she said.  "I'm not sure how much time I could give you per day.  It might not even be nine hours—"

 

"I wouldn't trust anyone else with this." 

 

_Ugh, you **ass**.  Way to tug at my heartstrings._

 

"I'm off duty starting tomorrow.  Four days.  That gives me three days to achieve bankai and one day to taunt you for eating my dust," he said with a grin, ignoring her eyeroll.  "Think you can help me out and change your schedule?"

 

Yoruichi hesitated.  On one hand, she didn't want to miss this for the world.  On the other, she understood there was a fine line between supporting Kisuke and allowing him to make a grave mistake.  Even if his physical self wasn't irreversibly harmed in this experiment, the already tenuous relationship between him and Benihime might shatter to the point of no repair, if he failed to defeat her in time.  Satisfying her own curiosity wasn't worth this.  Nothing was.  

 

But she had learned long ago just how single-minded he was about his inventions.  If she refused to help him, he would find a way to do it on his own, further endangering himself.  At the very least with her present, if things went south, she could try to intervene.   _Somehow_. 

 

"All right.  I'll speak to Captain Sasagawa," Yoruichi said. 

 

"Then I'll meet you here tomorrow.  Six a.m.," Kisuke said, grinning.

 

Yoruichi returned the smile, hoping she wasn't about to cheer him on to disaster.  "Tomorrow at six."

 

* * *

 

 

**JANUARY 11 TH, 125 B.H.I., URAHARA RESIDENCE, 2ND DISCTRICT, NORTHWEST RUKONGAI – 5 AM**

 

With a gentle moan, Kisuke rolled over in his futon.  Eyes still shut, he reached up to stroke his right cheek.  It was still warm, and as his ears adjusted to the ambience, he could hear the soft crackling of the coals in the firepit.  He opened his eyes, seeking out the clock on the cabinet by the back wall.   _A little past five.  Perfect._

 

**_"Slept well, did we?"_ **

 

Grinning, Kisuke stretched under the warm covers.   _Mmm, like a baby.  Awfully kind of Miss Shiba to lend me some valerian root extract, wasn't it?_

 

Benihime said nothing, her rage seeping all the way down to his bones.  Part of him wished he'd somehow been able to watch as she no doubt tried in vain to wake him up all night.  Knowing she would have tried to sabotage his sleep, he had planned accordingly.

 

She stayed silent as he went about his morning routine, but he could feel her, teetering on the precipice of speech.  It wasn't until he was fully clothed and in the process of stocking a bag with essentials that she spoke again.

 

**_"Do not go through with this.  Stop now, and I will forget you ever conceived of such a thing."_ **

 

A mellower spirit might have injected the request with a hint of genuine concern.  But Benihime was too proud to let him see her vulnerable.  She made no requests.  Only demands.

 

 _You forced my hand,_ Kisuke told her, nothing but honesty in his voice.  _I have long ago surpassed shikai level and we both know it.  I do not understand how you cannot see it._

 

 **_"You are ready when_ ** **I _say you are, you insolent whelp!"_**

 

His determination must have been driving her to despair all night.  He had never felt nor heard her sound so angry before.  If her spiritual essence was visible right now, he imagined it would be frothing about her, hissing and spitting volatile particles, as her eyes, pure black, gazed upon him with nothing but loathing.

 

**_"You think I wish to see you weak, or destroyed?  But strength, true strength, is not something you can force.  I have been trying to make you understand for almost two years now, but you insist on keeping your ears shut to the truth."_ **

 

Kisuke tied the ends of the duffel bag shut, refusing to let her words sway him.   _I think you have our roles confused._

 

**_"You're playing a dangerous game.  And what is worse, you are dragging down an innocent with you."_ **

 

Though her voice was devoid of levity, all Kisuke could do was laugh at her most desperate attempt to make him reconsider.  She was no longer even going for a smidgen of plausibility.

 

**_"You think me incapable?"_ **

 

Her tone left no room for doubt as to what she was implying.

 

 _I know you're **perfectly**  capable.  Just like  **you**  know that if you so much as touch a hair on her head, I will hack your materialized form to pieces, crush your blade and scatter the rinds across the four corners of the human world.  _Her shudder passed through him, and along with it, a chuckle tumbled out of his lips.   _Oh, come now… Don't feign offense.  You have always enjoyed me far more when our minds think alike.  Besides… I was bluffing._

 

He couldn't exactly blame her for not believing him.   ** _"Were you really?"_**

 

 _Of course I was.  I would never destroy you,_ he told her, and they were the truer words he had ever spoken. _I would simply not release you again.  Ever._

 

It was Benihime's turn to laugh.   ** _"Now_ that _is the true bluff.  You wouldn't keep that promise, boy.  You've gotten a taste for blood now and you will_ never _stop craving it."_**

 

_True enough.  And that would be my punishment for allowing you to hurt her.  Watching in impotence as I forever lead a peaceful life afterward... would be yours._

 

If there was a clearer sign that he had gotten through to her than silence, he didn't know it.  Benihime spoke no more as he shouldered his bag and stepped out into the crisp morning air. 

 

_Oh and, Benihime?  I will not hesitate to do the same if you try to **talk**  your way into hurting either her or me.  Just a warning._

 

Kisuke set off, dashing through the empty streets, the cold wind on his face awakening him fully.  He felt more alive than ever, filled with purpose.  And as the slate-colored sky slowly brightened, the sun peeking out inch-by-inch, he became convinced that today, he would take possibility into his hands and mold it into certainty.  He would not lose.  Not to her.  Not to  _him_.

 

He come out of a Flash Step in the middle of the valley inside the Training Grounds.  Letting his eyes wander over the staging area, his mind was already hard at work, constructing the possible scenarios of Benihime's first move.

 

" _Someone's_  looking all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed."

 

Kisuke looked up toward the source of the voice.  Yoruichi was already there, perched atop a small cliff overlooking the valley.  Having built the valley himself, Kisuke knew that cliff hadn't been there yesterday.

 

"I made this last night," Yoruichi said, reading the question in his eyes.  " _Before_  going to bed, so don't worry; I'm fully rested."

 

Kisuke smiled at her.  "All I was going to say was  _good morning_ ," he said.  "Are you ready to witness history in the making?"

 

"Blah, blah, blah.  Let's see you walk the walk, mister.  Off you go."

 

"I need to explain the rules first," he said, beckoning her over.

 

Yoruichi pushed herself off the edge of the cliff, landing on the ground gracefully, then approached him.

 

"Have you eaten?" he said.

 

Yoruichi snorted.  "Isn't that usually  _my_  line?"

 

"You'll need your strength today," he said.  "Remember, it's however many hours you can give me, then a five hour break, repeated until the end of the third day.  So, rule number one: make sure you stay fed," he said, handing her the duffel bag.

 

Yoruichi took it off his hands, then pulled the strings and took a peek at the contents.  "Aren't you going to need some of this?"

 

"Well, yes, I didn't mean eat the  _lot_."

 

Ignoring the amused smirk on his face, Yoruichi adopted a dignified expression and shut the bag closed again.  "So what's the expected process here?" 

 

"When I stab the Tenshintai, it'll disappear and Benihime will take its place," he said, pulling the second cord out of his pocket.  "The cord from the Tenshintai will transfer on to her and remain attached.  It keeps her contained, but it also keeps her from wandering off too far from the wielder of the twin cord, i.e. you.  In other words, as long as you both remain within the Training Grounds, close to the center, she can't make a run for it and out into the world."

 

 _Not that she would_.  Benihime's pride would never allow her to back away from a duel, and he had already insulted her repeatedly over the past few months.   _She won't leave, alright.  She wants to pummel me to a fine paste._   Still, even with that conviction, he couldn't overlook the need for a failsafe.  Predicting what her actions might be if he gained the upper hand in battle was not a precise science.

 

"As soon as she appears, start feeding your spiritual pressure into the twin cord to keep her from escaping," Kisuke said.  "It doesn't need a tremendous amount, it only needs to be a constant, uninterrupted stream.  When you're close to you limit, conserve a nice chunk of energy, about the amount you'd need for a twenties level Bakudō, and force it all in at once.  That will make the Tenshintai rematerialize, and it'll stay that way, with Benihime locked inside, for about five hours.  Should be closer to six, but we'll go with five to be on the safe side."

 

"Okay, got it."

 

"Rule number two: if something goes wrong, if perhaps we reach the end and I haven't made it, don't jump in to help, don't hesitate," he said.  "Force the Tenshintai into rematerialization and immediately sever the head.  It'll be destroyed and Benihime will be forced back into a sword."

 

Yoruichi's resolve seemed to waver upon hearing the second rule.  She stared at him, then at the cord he had just handed her, her jaw set.

 

"I'll need your word, Yoruichi; we can't have a rogue spirit in our hands," he said.  "There's no telling what she may do if she knocks both of us out."

 

Pursing her lips, Yoruichi stared at the cord resolutely, saying nothing.

 

"Yoruichi—"

 

"All right, okay!  I swear it."

 

"Good," said Kisuke.  

 

Despite her agreement, Yoruichi didn't make eye contact with him again, and he could see she was still troubled over what he had asked her to do.  Though the possibility of Benihime lashing out was strong, Kisuke had never meant for this day to be so mired in gravity.  He had every intention of keeping Yoruichi safe throughout the trial, and he had every intention of prevailing over his sword.  

 

Deciding to lighten the atmosphere a little, Kisuke went on.  "Rule number three: you'll need a cheering outfit."

 

Yoruichi's eyes snapped up to meet his.  " _What_?"

 

"Here I am, providing this marvelous spectacle for your viewing pleasure and you won't even cheer for me?  Hmmm…  I'm thinking light, summery yukata, the kind that fits a little loosely— I'm kidding, I'm kidding!  That's it, just the two rules."

 

Her withering stare turning to an eye-roll, Yoruichi shook her head at him and slung the bag of provisions over her shoulder.  "Tch, so desperate."

 

"Are you ready?" he said, grinning at her.

 

"Yes.  Are  _you_?"

 

 _Oh, I've been ready for months now._   Kisuke nodded.  "One last thing."

 

Yoruichi looked up at him questioningly.

 

"Don't listen to her, no matter what she might say," Kisuke said.  "She lies using the truth and it can be…"  _Horrifying.  Humiliating.  Debilitating._   "Just ignore her if she addresses you."

 

It was obviously something Yoruichi hadn't expected to hear.  "Would she?  Address  _me_?"

 

There was no escaping the fact that Benihime knew of every single one of his innermost thoughts.  If she chose to do so, she could reveal any number of his most shameful secrets, use them against him as punishment or leverage.  And as much confidence as he had in the effectiveness of his threat to never release her again, he wouldn't put it past her to turn to such tactics as a desperate measure.

 

"She might," Kisuke said.

 

"I take it she doesn't like me very much?" Yoruichi said, her lips twitching upward awkwardly.

 

"She doesn't really like many things.  These days, she's not particularly fond of  _me_ , either," Kisuke said, returning her grin.  "So… Let's do this," he said.  

 

Yoruichi held out the Tenshintai before him as he withdrew his sword.  

 

Kisuke took a deep breath in, then stabbed the Tenshintai.  "Move out."

 

Yoruichi leapt backwards as his blade cut through the Tenshintai's chest.  There was loud hissing from the point of contact, the white surface of the doll rippling.  Kisuke felt the handle of his weapon slip out of his grasp just before it was absorbed completely, and the Tenshintai blew apart in a loud explosion.  The shockwave pulsed between him and Yoruichi, a release of black spiritual energy filling the air.  Like a cloud of dissipating steam, the darkness slowly thinned out.  By the time Yoruichi was safely up on the cliff, Benihime herself had materialized before him.

 

Since November, he had actively avoided his inner world and she hadn't summoned him either, not once.  The closer the Tenshintai had been to completion, the more Kisuke had grown curious as to how she was dealing with the impending event.  He had fully expected her to look furious upon being forced to materialize, just like she had been this morning, yet she looked anything but.

 

Wearing her usual subtle smirk, Benihime stood in the middle of the Training Grounds as though she owned the whole world, not a hint of worry on her beautiful features.  Her black eyes lingered on him for a moment before they swept the scene, coming to a stop at Yoruichi.

 

"Hmm… Funny.  She looks different from up close," she said.  Her voice was calm and even, but loud enough to carry all the way over to Yoruichi.

 

It was neither a taunt, nor a clear disregard for his earlier order.  Kisuke suspected she had merely been unable to resist the temptation.  At any rate, he was certain he didn't want to know what Benihime had meant by that, and she never elaborated, turning to face him again.

 

"Hello, Benihime," Kisuke said.  "You heard everything?"

 

"I did."

 

"Will you accept the duel?"

 

Benihime's head cocked to the side, a curtain of glossy, black hair shadowing half her face.   _Moment of truth._   "As long as I get to set the rules," she said.

 

"That is fair."

 

Benihime slinked her way over to him.  With every step, the ground beneath her turned grey and cracked, as though her talons were sapping the very life out of the earth she walked upon.  She strode forward with the entitlement of a Queen, but the graceful body held within all the capriciousness of a Princess, instead.  She unsheathed her weapon, and instead of stopping before him, she deviated off course, grazing the tip over his right hand as she swept past him.

 

Kisuke felt something solid and heavy materialize in his palm, and when he looked down, he saw that he was now holding a very peculiar sword.  Though it resembled a regular katana in every way, its outline was blurred and constantly shifting, like a sword made of black fire.

 

"This Soul Cutter has the power to become any Soul Cutter you wish it to be," Benihime said as she circled around him, her sword scraping the ground in her wake.  "A melee type, a projectile type, a kidō blade… You may come at me with fire, ice, or any other element.  You may even come at me with a perfect replica of a blade you are familiar with.  Any blade you can conceive of."

 

 _A replica of an existing blade?_  

 

It was difficult not to make an immediate mental jump to Ryūjin Jakka, the Captain-Commander's legendary sword.  Kisuke realized very quickly, however, that the keyword here was  _familiar_.  He knew nothing of Ryūjin Jakka except that its element was fire.  Every warrior worth their salt kept the true power of their blade a secret, and Kisuke had a sneaking suspicion the last time the Captain-Commander had ever needed to release his weapon, it had been eight hundred years ago.  Besides, Ryūjin Jakka would never work for him the way it did for its true master.  

 

The test wasn't to simply copy the strongest blade he knew of; the  _true_  test was coming up with a blade that would be able to counter Benihime's powers, whatever they might turn out to be.

 

"Any blade, that is," Benihime said, leaning close to his ear as she came up on his left side.  "Except for me."

 

Kisuke smirked at that last tidbit of information.  And really, had he expected any different from her?   _Of course_  the test would be all about her trying to make him see that no blade was a match for her.  Not even the most versatile weapon his imagination was capable of conjuring up.

 

Kisuke held the shifting sword up before him.  "I suppose wishing straight out for a blade that can defeat you will not work?"

 

Benihime let out a throaty laugh as she ambled back to her original position.  "It will not.  Prove that you can win without me,  _or_  your flashy spells, and I will submit to you."

 

A true sword fight then.  No holds barred.  She really _did_ know the way to his heart.  "Do I have your word?"

 

"Careful, boy," Benihime said, whipping around to face him.  Her crimson kimono swung alongside her movement.  "You have been treading on thin ice for quite some time now.  I will respect the outcome of the duel.  Of that, you needn't fret.  The question is… will  _you_?" she said, the challenge written in her eyes.

 

Kisuke met it head-on.  "I guess it's safe to say we've both been looking forward to this."

 

* * *

 

**JANUARY 11 TH, 125 B.H.I., THE TRAINING GROUNDS, COURT OF PURE SOULS – 4 PM**

  
Kisuke was down to his eleventh version of the blade, when Yoruichi began to feel the end of her power reserves drawing near.

 

The fact that he had even held out for so long was a testament to his mastery of the art of the sword.  His successful run as an officer had given birth to both admiration and envy throughout the ranks.  She knew what the naysayers were whispering behind his back: his true talent lay in kidō, he had lucked into a versatile blade, and so on.

 

Part of Yoruichi wished there was a way they could spectate this duel.  She'd love to hear what they would have to say if they could witness him fight for ten straight hours against an opponent of Benihime's caliber.

 

Kisuke's spirit was not only a master swordswoman, she was also wickedly fast.  Fast enough that Yoruichi now suspected the only reason her friend had stood his ground long enough was his quick thinking.  Not that any of his ideas had made much of an impact. 

 

Yoruichi could find no fault with his reasoning so far.  He had started by testing the elements, experimenting with blades that rained down fire on Benihime, or blasted her with ice, or summoned thunder at her feet.  Locking down the element that would hurt her the most first, then the technique was a wise strategy, but it had proved to be fruitless.  No matter what he threw at her, it made no impact.  One by one, his attacks would either miss, or when they connected, they seemed to lose their internal structure with a mere sweep of her sword.

 

Throughout all this, there was an unsettling serenity about her, like the outcome of the battle had already been decided long before Kisuke had even summoned his first blade.  The notion alone had put Yoruichi on edge.  She had been, ever since she'd laid eyes on Benihime.  Despite Kisuke's concerns, all Benihime had done upon manifestation was to direct a seemingly benign comment at her.  But her cold eyes, her overall appearance had made Yoruichi's insides grow frigid.  

 

She was striking, that much she couldn't deny.  A creature possible of existing only in someone's imagination, both lovely and terrible.  Her beauty evoked a haunting, eerie sensation, as though this form was but a shadow of her true self.  A self that only ever manifested in nightmares.  Everything about her was suggestive, from her voice down to her clothing.  Yoruichi had long ago suspected Kisuke had lied to her about the maple connection, and she was now starting to see why.  The fact that Benihime was clad in something that held a deep emotional significance to him was probably very distressing, a constant, visual representation of two opposing aspects of his life clashing together.  

 

Yoruichi couldn't pretend she hadn't been just as tight-lipped when it came to Maya.  However, her reasons for keeping her struggles a secret had had more to do with her failure to communicate with her spirit.  Especially since Kisuke had beaten her to the punch within a  _week_  of acquiring his Asauchi.  She had never imagined that his own reasons for secrecy might be quite so rooted in darkness.  Was he ashamed of who Benihime, of who  _he_  truly was?  She couldn't deny that seeing Benihime in the flesh had been a bit of a shock at first.  She also could not deny that the longer she watched the two of them together, the more she couldn't believe she'd never pictured Benihime  _exactly_  as she was. 

 

With the last few vestiges of her strength clinging on for dear life, Yoruichi waited for the opportune moment.  She readied herself, just as Kisuke rolled out of the deadly path of Benihime's blade in the nick of time.  Concentrating her will on the cord in her hand, she took a deep breath and poured all her remaining energy in.

 

Down below, she saw Kisuke pause for a moment, mid-swing, taken aback by the sudden disappearance of Benihime.  His eyes immediately sought hers.

 

"It's been ten hours," Yoruichi said, to both their surprise.  She hadn't expected to last longer than nine hours, if even that.  "That's about it for me."

 

Kisuke nodded, the blade in his hand shifting back to its original shape.  Plunging it into the ground, he Flash Stepped over to her, his knees shaking when he made the landing.

 

He was trying to disguise it, but it was evident he was beyond exhausted.  His entire body was covered in sweat, the tendrils of hair that usually framed his face now wet and sticking to his slick skin.  But her greatest worry was the pallor to his complexion she had never before seen.  This wasn't mere fatigue, or pain, or even frustration at his inability to wound Benihime even once.  He looked ill, and Yoruichi knew it was the result of having a piece of his soul forcibly torn out.  Even if he had all the time in the world to recuperate, he would never be able to operate at full capacity, not until Benihime returned to her usual form.  And it was bound to get worse the closer they got to the three day mark.

 

Kisuke dropped down to his knees beside her, a groan escaping his lips as he unceremoniously plopped down upon the futon she had laid out for him.  He shut his eyes, arm draped over his head, his chest swelling and contracting in time with his pants.  "So…   _That's_ going swimmingly," he said, the edges of his lips twitching up in a wry grin.

 

Yoruichi let out a feeble chuckle, setting the cord aside and taking a seat next to him.  She pulled at the drawstrings of the duffel bag, starting to unload the provisions he had packed.  Kisuke was watching her through half-lidded eyes, looking about ready to fall asleep as she pushed a container of rice over to him.

 

"After you've eaten something, get some rest," he said, sitting up on the futon.

 

"What about you?" Yoruichi said, opening a packet of dried fruit and tossing a few slices of apricot into her mouth.

 

"We'll take it in turns," he said, his fingers shaking as he tried to hold his chopsticks upright.  "I was going to go wash by the stream anyway—"

 

"It's  _January_ ; you'll freeze."

 

"It'll help with the soreness."

 

Yoruichi chewed on her fruit, her eyes trained on him even as he avoided making eye-contact.  Despite his earlier quip, she knew he wasn't in a loquacious mood right now, having expected to do better against Benihime.  "Okay, but I'm healing you first," she said.

 

Kisuke grimaced, washing down his large mouthful with some water off the canteen.  "It's fine, get some sleep—"

 

"Wouldn't it be better if I healed you  _now_  so I can fully recover my energy during sleep?"

 

He couldn't argue with her logic, though she could see he was trying to find a loophole.  "I seriously reek right now," he said, finally glancing up at her with a wince.

 

"Yeah, I know; I train with you almost every day," Yoruichi said, setting the packet of fruit down and motioning at him to undress.  "You keep eating."

 

Letting out a sigh, Kisuke put his food down and removed his top.  The reason for his hesitation to let her heal him became plain the moment he did.  He hadn't wanted her to see just how badly Benihime had gotten him, even in a seemingly uneventful fight.  His back was peppered with bruises, both big and small, and what she had thought was a miss, had instead left him with a nasty-looking cut on the left side of his abdomen.

 

Yoruichi suppressed a shudder at the sight.  She schooled her expression into a passive one, as though she wasn't becoming increasingly panicked about his chances.  

 

Kisuke took a seat down on the futon, his back turned to her, and reached for his food again, not saying a word.

 

Willing her hands to stop trembling, Yoruichi scooted closer, her legs splayed out on either side of him as she set about healing his abdomen.  "By the way," she said, desperate for something other than tense silence to fill the air between them.  "Your spiritual pressure grew during the course of the fight.  Did you notice?"

 

"It did?" Kisuke said, straightening his slumped back.

 

"Mmmm-hm.  It's actually quite intriguing to witness," she said.  "It also probably means you'll need more time to recover your energy, so after I'm done, forget about the bath and keep on eating.  Toss some nuts and fruit in there, they're dense in calories and nutrients."

 

"You need to rest, too."

 

"I'll be fine with a couple of hours of sleep."

 

Kisuke ate a few more bites, letting her work in silence, before he plunged his chopsticks into the food and set the bowl aside.  "I'm screwing this up."

 

Yoruichi's spiritual pressure faltered at his dejected tone.  It was a desperate cry for some comfort, but she was struggling to find any soothing words when her own outlook was so bleak.  "Kind of, yeah," she said.

 

Shoulders tensing up, Kisuke gaped at her over his shoulder, as though hoping he had heard wrong.

 

Yoruichi shrugged, grasping at the opportunity to lighten the mood.  "Well it's  _true,_ " she said, grinning at him.

 

"And yet you seem quite sanguine.  Wait— Did you just come here to watch as I get the snot beaten out of me?"

 

"Partly," she said, and was glad to see that he joined her in laughing. "But no, I'm not concerned."

 

One of Kisuke's pale eyebrows shot up.  "Why not?"

 

"Because I know you'll win." 

 

"You  _know_."

 

She shrugged again.  "It's what you  _do_.  You watch, you analyze, then boom.  Checkmate," she said, only now realizing that this pep talk was easing both their fears.  When explaining his own process out loud, she found herself growing calmer, regaining hope.  Was this how he always felt when  _he_  gave his trademark little speeches to lift her spirits? 

 

"Checkmate, huh?  It took me  _seventy-two_  years to beat your father, you know," Kisuke said.

 

"Yes, well, father is a  _bit_  cleverer than Benihime.  No offense," she said.  "But here's the thing: you've done this a hundred times.  You  _hate_  fighting without knowing your opponent inside-out.  So when you  _have_  to do just that, you hold back, you watch.  Sounds  _exactly_  like what you've been doing with Benihime to me."

 

A knot formed on Kisuke's brow as he considered her words.  They were having the desired effect, but he still clung to some uncertainty.  "She's not just any opponent."

 

"True.  So it's a good thing you have all this time," she said, as she swept her fingers over the freshly healed wound, checking for swelling.  "Play it safe for now.  She  _is_  pretty sneaky, after all.  Then again—" She glanced up at him, smirking. "—you've got plenty of experience with sneaky." 

 

Kisuke only vaguely returned the smile as he turned to the side, half-facing her.  There was that look in his eyes again, the one that rendered her silent and flustered, the kind of penetrating gaze that sometimes kept her up at nights with its intensity, and she would toss and turn, finding no comfort until the early morning hours.  A shadow passed over his gaze, his pupils dilating, the grey irises growing darker.  Yoruichi wondered if her chest was heaving as visibly as his was.

 

"Yoruichi—"

 

The words spilled out of her mouth before she could stop them.  "Get some sleep," she said, smiling at him.  Whatever he'd meant to say next, she was certain now was not the time.  He had a trial to get through, and he could not afford wasting a single moment of rest. 

 

"I— Yeah.  Okay."  He adjusted his top, making a clear effort to keep his brittle grin from faltering.  "Thanks for healing me.  Don't let me sleep too long, okay?" he said, settling down on the futon.

 

He closed his eyes, and in the couple of seconds it took Yoruichi to answer him, he was fast asleep.

 

As she watched Kisuke's pallid chest rise and fall with his faint breaths, Yoruichi mentally replayed their conversation, trying to instill herself with some of the confidence she had displayed to him.

 

For the first time in her life, she felt the keen desire to have Maya materialize next to her.  More than anything, she wanted to bury her face into her friend's soft fur, snuggle the warm body and let her purrs ease all her worries away.  

 

In response, Maya offered her the next best thing.  Her gentle trills reverberated throughout Yoruichi's chest as her friend kept her company in spirit, sharing the load of her fears, making them a little easier to carry.  

  

* * *

 

**JANUARY 13 TH, 125 B.H.I., THE TRAINING GROUNDS, COURT OF PURE SOULS – 2 AM**

 

His vision blurred for a moment as he stared at a fixed point on the ceiling, his consciousness slipping.  Kisuke started, fingers digging into his futon, and he forced his eyes wide open, heart drumming.  

 

As much as he needed to rest, he couldn't afford to right now.  In a few hours, the second day would be officially over, and he was no closer to beating Benihime than he had been at the beginning.  Counting on the following twenty four hours for more insight was a waste.  His soul was under so much strain already, that he doubted he would make it to two and a half days, let alone three.  

 

Though his pool of power had flourished, he had little use for it.  Without a better strategy, it wouldn't matter how powerful he was.  Not if he could not use said power effectively.  

 

Benihime had so far deflected everything he'd thrown at her.  The only times he had wounded her, it had been through sheer swordsmanship alone, the blade's abilities being of no help.  If anything, trying to come up with new permutations of the sword had only been a hindrance.  Near the end of the first day, he had entertained the theory that the blade itself was a distraction, but it had led nowhere.  Even without the weapon's unique powers, he was struggling with hurting her, often landing a blow only to find himself cut, instead.  It was not a matter of poor determination, he knew as much.  The answer was far simpler: he was weaker without her.  Forcing him to reach that conclusion had always been the point of the trial.  

 

Even armed with that knowledge, he could see no clear path to victory.  He hadn't been able to for two whole days now.

 

Next to him, Yoruichi was in deep slumber, buried up to her shoulders under the futon to keep the cold at bay.  Head rolling to the side, Kisuke watched her sleep.  The permanent knot marring her forehead these past two days had finally relaxed.  Benihime's trial had taken its toll on her as well, and guilty though he felt for getting her involved, he couldn't help but also be in awe of her.  Anyone else with an equivalent pool of spiritual power wouldn't have been able to make it last eight hours, but she had been consistently stretching it, doling it out with such care and precision that she had afforded him ten hours instead.  In the third and last cycle, she had actually managed to come close to eleven.

 

He should've woken her up almost an hour ago, but he'd neither had the heart to do so, nor did he think there was any point.  He wasn't going to be getting any sleep himself.  He'd recovered as much of his spiritual energy as he could through sustenance, but his mind was running a mile a minute.  It wouldn't find peace until the trial was over, one way or another.  Occasionally his eyes would slip shut, but something in his subconscious would immediately shake him awake.  The world would rush back into focus, his surroundings a reminder of his grim circumstances. 

 

Kisuke pulled Yoruichi's futon up to her ears, tucking the edge behind the crook of her neck, then turned to face the ceiling again, sighing.

 

The more he thought about it, the more Benihime's test made both all the sense in the world, and no sense at all.  Her reasoning behind the rules was obvious: she wanted him to acknowledge her superiority over other swords.  From the beginning of their relationship, all she'd ever wanted was for them to work as one, as equals, so why would she ever ask him to prove he could win without her?  The second rule was absolute: he would  _not_  be able to summon her.

 

Victory in this trial wasn't a matter of pure, raw strength.  He had conjured up the strongest blade he could imagine, and it had failed, just like every other had.  Then again, perhaps there was a flaw in his reasoning when coming up with the strongest weapon.  One's perception of strength could vary from situation to situation.  There was but one sure-fire metric of strength, or rather potential in Soul Cutters, and it was—

 

Eyes snapping wide, Kisuke sat up on his futon fast enough to make himself nauseated, but he paid his protesting body no mind. 

 

_This is it.  I know how to beat her._

  

* * *

 

 

**JANUARY 13 TH, 125 B.H.I., THE TRAINING GROUNDS, COURT OF PURE SOULS – 3 AM**

 

Yoruichi rolled on to her back, letting out a soft moan.  Deeply ensconced in the warmth and softness of her futon, her mind still trapped in that sweet, post-sleep haze, she shimmied down, burying her nose under the rim of the covers.  She was beginning to awaken, but she had no intention of getting up just yet, figuring she might as well lie in until First Call.

 

She could hear shuffling from somewhere in the vicinity, which didn't bode well for her plans.  If her bunkmates were already up and about, the bell was about to ring.  Sighing, Yoruichi cracked one eye open, shifting her bleary gaze toward the source of the noise.

 

Kisuke stood before her and there was a towel slung around his neck, his hair damp.  The kosode of his black robes was undone and he was inspecting a wound on his abdomen. 

 

_Hold on— Kisuke?  What is he—? THE BANKAI TRAINING!_

Yoruichi sprang up from the futon, her eyes wild, memories of the last two days rushing back to her all at once.  "What time is—?  Why didn't you wake me up!"

 

"Morning," Kisuke said, grinning as he redressed the wound she had healed many hours ago.  "It should be getting close to 3 am, I was just about to wake you."

 

Honestly, that fool.  Did he not understand that getting  _him_  rested and fed was a priority?  Even if she managed to stretch her own powers enough to give him twelve, twenty hours, none of it would matter if he couldn't last three.

 

Forking a hand through her hair, Yoruichi looked around for the duffel bag as she tried to get her bearings.  By the time Kisuke had finished wrapping the bandage around his waist, she was hastily shoving down handfuls of crackers, in a last-ditch effort to restore her spiritual energy to its full capacity.

 

"Slow down," he said, chuckling as he adjusted his kosode.  "There's still some time."

 

"Did you get any sleep?" she said.

 

"I'm fine," Kisuke said, and for the first time in three days, he looked it.

 

Yoruichi seized him up, her brows coming together.  Just as she had predicted, the burden of being parted with his inner spirit for two full days now was evident on his body.  He had bathed and changed clothes while she slept, but it was clear he hadn't gotten much –if any- rest at all.  And yet something about him was different.  He was smiling.  He was confident.  Somewhere in there, past the exhaustion, the look in his eyes was one of pure resolve.

 

"You got a plan?" she said.

 

"More like… a hunch," he said, meeting her eye, lips stretched out in a smirk.

 

And it was then that she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was going to win.  Today _._ Right  _now_.

 

Swallowing her mouthful, Yoruichi reached for the canteen of water and splashed some on her face.  Washing all vestiges of sleepiness off her face, she got up on her feet and went through a swift stretching routine to get herself ready.

 

"Okay, I'm up," she said.  When she picked up the cord, she could sense that the spiritual power she had used to seal Benihime was about to run out.  "It's nearly time.  You ready?" 

 

With a nod, Kisuke Flash Stepped to the valley below and pulled the sword out of the ground.  Within seconds, the fallen Tenshintai began to morph into Benihime's shape once again.

 

After a brief, quite frankly tormenting round of inane pleasantries, they finally got down to business.  This time around, Kisuke went for a simple, compact blade.  He didn't bother employing any abilities, focusing on speed instead of power.  He still had difficulty cutting Benihime, but he stayed on top of the fight, countering her slashes and keeping his cool.

 

_Come on, come on…_

 

As Kisuke and Benihime's swords were about to clash again, Yoruichi sensed the shift; he was gathering up a massive release of spiritual power, ready to unleash it the moment their swords made contact.  It was a familiar move, one he often used against her when he wanted to push her back and gain some distance.  It was also a risk, wasting such a big amount of energy on a single attack when he was meant to be spending it wisely, trying to make it last, something she knew he was all too aware of.  And it could only mean one thing.

 

 _He's about to finish this._  

 

The two swords met with a clang.  As Yoruichi had foreseen, the force behind the attack pushed Benihime back.  She didn't lose her balance as her clawed feet scraped the ground, already poised for a counterattack, but Kisuke made good use of that one second the powerful blow had afforded him.  He Flash Stepped backwards to put more space between them and brandished his weapon.

 

The sword reverted back to its original state or ever-shifting, black flame-like matter, and Yoruichi held her breath. 

 

When the shape solidified, however, she found that she could feel no power whatsoever within the new blade.  Not a single speck.  It was a completely blank sword, much like the Asauchi given to them as Academy students.

 

Benihime seemed to share her confusion, looking downright affronted at Kisuke's newest attempt.  "Is this a joke?  You think an empty blade will be able to defeat me?" she said, her brow knit.

 

Kisuke's only response was to let out a smirk, twisting the weapon ostentatiously around his wrist as he allowed just a hint of his spiritual power to seep into the blade.

 

Yoruichi realized what was about to happen barely a second before Benihime did, and it took everything in her power to keep herself from letting out a joyous scream.

 

The sword shifted again, but it wasn't the result of Kisuke's will.  It was the result of his power impregnating the blank blade.  And just like it had transpired four years ago, with that single droplet of spiritual energy, the sword in his hand was no longer an Asauchi, but—

 

"Awaken, Benihime!"

 

Benihime's face registered nothing but shock as she saw her own self reflected in the sword Kisuke now held.

 

Channeling every last reserve of power left in him, Kisuke fell into a Flash Step so fast, so beautifully executed, that Yoruichi could only feel pride at both her tutelage and his progress. 

 

Before Benihime could even comprehend what had happened, the sword in Kisuke's hands had run her through.   

 

* * *

 

 

He felt it, the moment the blade pierced through her heart.  Hands shaking on the grip, he no longer knew where she ended and he began. 

 

Her shock morphed into pain, agonizing pain laced with a hint of betrayal, the unspoken question written in her eyes: Why?  But she smiled through it, her hand reaching out toward him, the tip of her thumb tracing his cracked lips.  "Clever boy…"

 

The black pools of her irises swallowed him whole, and he allowed himself to be drawn in, closing his eyes, only to reopen them in the dark.

 

There was a forced stillness in the air, a sense of an impending event, the calm before the storm. 

 

The maple stood tall and healthy, its branches heaving under the weight of brilliant, crimson leaves.  And there she sat beneath it, more beautiful and serene than she had ever been, the smile gracing her face beatific.

 

"In the beginning, there was only darkness," she said.  "And on the day we came into this world, screaming with the exquisite pain and ecstasy of birth, we  _became_  this world.  Primordial and absolute, the One who is both creator and creation." 

 

She stood up, her gaze never leaving his as she approached with the determined yet leisurely gait of a lover.

 

"And then we called out into the void, saying  _It is I,_  but none answered other than our own echo.  And so we knew fear, for who among us does not fear in the face of solitude?  But what had we to fear, when fear itself only refers to a second?  And so we knew loneliness, desire, and called out once more, our cry splitting the One in half."

 

Coming to a stop before him, she raised her arm, the sleeve of her kimono slipping past her delicate wrist as she held her hand out, letting it hover in the space between them, never touching him.  "And we became you and I," she said, gesturing from him to herself.  "Torn asunder, cast off to opposite ends of this world, fighting, always fighting.  To be One again."

 

She took the final step forward, placing her palm over his heart, the sole dark cloud in her calmness that hint of betrayal, the  _Why_.  "All you had to do was say the words, you know," she said.  "I would have stood down.  But you found another way.  You always do."

 

His lips parted, breath held in as she leaned forward, her other hand coming up to cup his face.  There was an endearing, childish innocence in the reluctance with which she placed her mouth against his, as though she were testing the waters, virginal and unassuming. 

 

Her touch filled him with warmth, a heat that spread down to his core and all throughout him like wildfire.  The uncertain mouth became aggressive, and while he'd only found himself cautiously reciprocating before, he was now returning the kiss in kind, one hand fisting her hair as he coaxed her lips apart.  There was neither affection nor lust in the exchange, but an immeasurable, irresistible urge to quench his thirst for something just out of reach, something nameless and nebulous which was only becoming clearer the more she drew him in, all teeth, tongue and roaming hands.

 

And then his eyes snapped open, his whole body growing rigid in her embrace when he felt it, the ripple in the still air, the breeze that blew past them, a herald for the coming storm.

 

The wind swept past the maple tree, carrying with it the crimson leaves while the ground beneath him shook, his whole world starting to fall apart as the hurricane enveloped them.  Benihime dug her fingernails into his scalp, her mouth hot and relentless against his, every movement of her lips drinking in the life out of him, until he could no longer breathe or move or do anything but gape in horror at the whirlwind of crimson that had encircled them.

 

Benihime pulled away, her hair dancing in the wind as she held his face in her hands.  "Shhhh… Fear not, my sweet.  There will be no more solitude for us, nor desire for the unattainable.  What have we to fear, when we are One?" 

 

With a smile, she let go, her body dissolving in a flurry of crimson leaves and before he could do more than reach out in futility, the hurricane around him glowed redder and closed in on him, his scream the last thing he heard before being swallowed into oblivion.

 

* * *

 

**JANUARY 13 TH, 125 B.H.I., THE TRAINING GROUNDS, COURT OF PURE SOULS – 3:30 AM**

 

It happened so fast, she never even got the chance to cheer for him.

 

One moment Benihime was there, body skewered upon Kisuke's sword, and the next, she was dissolving like a slain Hollow.  Particles of black spiritual matter scattered in the air, revealing the Tenshintai beneath, and they reformed in his hand into the familiar shape of his Soul Cutter.

 

The second she was back in his hand, the new, subdued Benihime, Kisuke fell down on his knees, panting, his grip on Benihime so tight his knuckles turned white.  No hint of triumph on his face, no elation, nor exhaustion, but pure, sheer panic as he was starting to exhibit difficulty to breathe.

 

Yoruichi had Flash Stepped to him in the blink of an eye, all thoughts of celebration evaporating from her mind at once.  "Kisuke?"

 

Dropping his sword, Kisuke took in a rasping breath, one hand clutching his chest.  Something was happening within him, the flow of his spiritual pressure turning intermittent.  There was a moment, the merest fraction of a second when their eyes met, and then his entire body was flooded with a raging torrent of uncontrollable energy.

 

"KISUKE!"

 

As soon as he saw her move to come to his aid, Kisuke held up one hand, looking more terrified than she had ever seen him.  "NO, STAY BACK!"

 

His spiritual pressure left the confines of his body, encasing him in an empyreal, volatile haze of the purest red, tendrils of energy swaying about erratically like a living, growing crown of thorns.  It was as though someone had stretched his Soul Sleep wide open, and the flood of energy that spewed forth was endless, a seething, snarling beast that had been caged for too long.   

 

"What's happening to you?" Yoruichi said, frozen mid-step, at a complete loss of what to do.

 

Kisuke could only shake his head, as he still clutched his chest, now unable to draw a single breath.

 

He had warned her, a long time ago, that with every sudden growth spurt of his powers he would need to practice caution and patience, learn how to work with it and keep it under control.  For the past three days, she had watched as his spiritual pressure had grown in an alarmingly fast rate.  It was said that the mere feat of achieving bankai release gave a Soul Reaper five to  _ten_  times the amount of power they previously had.

 

Left to this state, he was going to burn from within by his own newfound strength.

 

Yoruichi pursed her lips, fingernails digging into the pads of her palms as she clenched her fists.  "Hold it in."

 

"I… I can't—"

 

"Less than a second.  That's all I need."

 

Kisuke met her gaze and seemed to understand.  With tremendous effort, he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. 

 

Yoruichi lay in wait, poised to move at any moment.  Kisuke's power continued to fluctuate wildly, but the volatile, erratic flow was slowing down.  Yoruichi suspected it took all he had not to scream agony, but with one final push, Kisuke managed to give her an opening: the erratic flow of his power came to a sudden halt, the tendrils in the halo of red that surrounded him now swaying gently, like stalks of grass in the breeze.

 

She swept in, willing every single cell of her body to move faster than it ever had, and she pulled her right arm back.  Palm steady and flat as a board, she brought it forward, concentrating all her spiritual power at her fingertips.  Kisuke's eyes snapped wide as her hand plunged straight through the flesh and into his abdomen, shattering his Soul Sleep.         

 

The pupils of his eyes dilated, consuming the irises and the whites until there was nothing but black, and for a second, Benihime's eyes stared back at her with raw, pure hatred.  The darkness withdrew, Kisuke's eyes rolled back into their sockets and he was knocked out cold, the red haze of energy surrounding him dissolving at once.

 

Wasting no time, Yoruichi tossed him over her shoulder, grabbed Benihime and sped off.  Left unattended, his damaged Soul Sleep would permanently close, never to release spiritual power again.  But if she hurried, she could get him to the Relief Station before any irreparable damage set in.  She had no time to come up with an excuse for his injury, she would just have to wing it and hope for the best.

 

The fatigue of the last few days and the added effort of Flash Stepping for miles caught up with her.  When she materialized at the reception of the Fourth Division's Relief Station, she could barely stand.

 

The normally busy emergency room was quiet at this late hour, only a handful of medics waltzing about the hallways.  The receptionist's eyes were dull and bloodshot as she looked up from her desk.  She did a double take, as did every other single person in the vicinity.

 

Drenched in sweat, carrying an unconscious body over her shoulder, her white kosode covered in blood that wasn't hers, Yoruichi met the receptionist's stunned gaze.  "His Soul Sleep has been heavily damaged," she said, in between pants.

 

There was a flurry of movement as the medics brought forward a stretcher.  The receptionist scrambled down the hall, no doubt in search of a superior officer on call.  Yoruichi listened to the instructions relayed to her carefully, about to help the medics deposit Kisuke onto the stretcher, when she felt his hand brush against her back.  Turning to face him, she saw that he had only barely regained consciousness, eyes shifting about slowly as he tried to make sense of his surroundings.

 

Yoruichi knelt down by his side as he was lowered to the stretcher.  This was the only chance she would get to warn him before he was taken away.  "It's okay, Kisuke," she said, coloring her voice with as much pathos as she could muster.  "You'll be okay now," she said, using the guise of stroking his hair to lean down to his ear and whisper, "Gaten."

 

A knot formed on Kisuke's forehead, but before she could offer any further explanation, or at the very least make sure he'd even heard her, he was whisked away, past the red line on the floor that denoted the off-limits area to visitors.

 

Yoruichi watched him disappear behind the double doors, and it was only then that she allowed herself to process what had happened, to realize that the fake concern she'd displayed only moments ago hadn't been so artificial after all. 

 

As the medics eased her into a small examination room to tend to her, she tried to reason that she had done the best she could.  In her mind, there was simply no competition between a dead Kisuke and a powerless one, but would he feel the same way once all was said and done?  If her desperate attempt to save him had unwittingly terminated his career as a Soul Reaper, left him with no outlet for his brilliant ideas, his passion, would he ever forgive her?  Would he ever be Kisuke again?  It would seem especially ironic now, almost like a punishment for his newfound confidence.  Not to mention his crowning achievement, a feat so diametrical to the deeply entrenched rules of their world, that it could only make his name famous overnight.  Be that in a positive or negative light.

 

Though far from collected, she pushed her own thoughts aside for now.  Keeping them both out of trouble was the immediate priority.  She answered the healer's questions as vaguely as she could, avoiding specifics on their sparring methods, using her alleged shock to duck out whenever cornered.  After asking her to fill in and sign a number of forms, the medics declared her unharmed.  She could do nothing else but sit at the deserted Waiting Room.  

 

Curled into a tight ball of numbness, she kept her eyes on the minute hand of the clock on the wall, waiting in vain for news of Kisuke's condition.  It was nearing daybreak when she heard the distant sound of footsteps clopping down the hall.  She looked up, hope and dread battling it out within her, only to find none other than Captain Unohana herself approaching.  

 

Dread lopped Hope's head clean off, taking its seat on the throne of her heart with a smirk.

 

Yoruichi had never felt smaller or more petrified than the moment the Captain came to a stop before her, the expression on her face inscrutable.

 

"Is… is he…?" Yoruichi said, her voice no more than a strangled whisper.

 

"Out of danger," Captain Unohana said.  "I oversaw the procedure performed by Officer Yamada and it was a textbook operation; the damage to Officer Urahara's Soul Sleep has been reversed, the wound and incision nearly healed.  All he requires now is some rest to recover his depleted reserves of power."

 

The breath that got expelled from Yoruichi's lungs was one she wasn't even aware of holding in.  Burying her face in her hands, she willed her drumming heart to slow down, an endless mantra echoing in her head.   _He's fine, he's fine, he's fine, he's finehe'sfine…_

 

"For a—" Yoruichi looked up just in time to see Captain Unohana check out the form on her binder.  "— _miscalculated hit_ , it was a curiously precise one.  A lucky shot, no doubt.  So lucky, in fact, that a four millimeter deviation would have meant complete destruction of the Soul Sleep, instead of the actual end result: a small collapse that just so happened to seal it up.  How very  _lucky_ , indeed.  Why, a more suspicious person might have considered the odds and reached the conclusion that such a coincidence is a near impossibility."

 

Yoruichi shrank back into her seat, wrists locked between her knees.

 

"To the great surprise of all the statisticians in the land, however," Captain Unohana said.  "Officer Urahara corroborated your story when he regained consciousness.  Awfully insistent that  _he_  was the one who suggested it, too."

 

It took a great measure of self-control not to smile at the sound of that.  So Kisuke had heard her, after all, and had even managed to offer an explanation that coincided with hers.  A training accident, one that had taken place when he had agreed to help her test out an Onmitsukidō maneuver that involved dealing a single blow laced with tranquilizer.  She'd remembered mentioning it once, glad to see he had been paying attention.  What Captain Unohana didn't know but obviously suspected, was that Yoruichi had needed no additional help to master the technique.  

 

"We… we both… agreed to this," Yoruichi said, hoping that placing the blame on both parties might lessen the chances of grave punishment from either side.

 

"And I suppose you can offer no explanation as to how a Fifth Seat has about  _thrice_  the amount of spiritual power my Lieutenant does?  Or how there were no traces of medicine in his bloodstream whatsoever?"

 

There was no fooling a competent healer when it came to concealing the truth behind injuries.  And Captain Unohana was far from merely competent.  Despite her best efforts to keep her story vague, Yoruichi had known that certain elements simply wouldn't add up.  If anyone was bound to notice, it was someone of the Captain's caliber.

 

"I… I never actually  _administered_  the tranquilizer," Yoruichi said.  "I saw I misjudged my blow, so…"

 

It was clear as day that Yoruichi's answer hadn't addressed the part of the inquiry the Captain felt was more salient, but the latter didn't ask any follow-up questions.  Instead, she fixed Yoruichi with a sphinx-like stare.  "I see," she said, then turned to her binder, where she made a few notes.

 

Yoruichi thought it best to stay silent until prompted by the Captain, wary of saying anything that would turn the tipping point of the precarious situation against their favor.  The only saving grace was that Captain Unohana herself held no power over a member of a different Division or the Onmitsukidō.  Nevertheless, she could still petition for an investigation, or write a particularly damning report that would find its way into the hands of their respective superiors.

 

Captain Unohana finished taking down notes then turned back to Yoruichi.  "I will allow a brief visitation, no longer than five minutes.  Regular visiting hours begin at 8 am." 

 

Unable to hide her shock, Yoruichi gawked at Captain Unohana, certain she had misheard.

 

In response, the Captain rolled her eyes and snapped her binder shut.  "My dear, if I reported every training injury for what it truly was, there would be few others left to fill these halls but the Captain-Commander and myself," she said.  "Goodness knows I've had more than enough members of the Eleventh hobble in here with a severed limb or their  _actual_  viscera in hand, insisting they  _fell down the stairs_.  At least both you and Officer Urahara made an effort to come up with something semi-convincing.  And you both look plenty remorseful.  That is enough for me.  I trust that today will serve as a cautionary tale on the perils of dangerous training methods?"

 

Yoruichi couldn't have disagreed if she'd wanted to.  As the air around her grew a touch colder, the atmosphere heavier, Yoruichi nodded vigorously at Captain Unohana's broad smile, breath caught in her throat.

 

"Room 304, second turn down the hallway, to your right."

 

"Thank you, Captain," Yoruichi said, giving Captain Unohana a curt, stiff bow before she all but sprinted away in search of Kisuke's room.     

 

Once there, she found the door ajar and stepped inside the dimly-lit room.  Kisuke was the sole occupant, she was glad to see, the other cot made and empty.  Clad in a white hospital gown, he lay on the bed, eyes closed.  Upon hearing the gentle creak of the door, he turned toward the entrance.

 

"Did you get in trouble?" he said, his voice faint. 

 

Yoruichi shook her head, coming to take a seat by the empty side on his bed.

 

Relief flooded Kisuke's features.  "Good," he said, nodding.  For a moment, Yoruichi thought he might've fallen asleep, but after a brief pause, he looked up at her.  "Am  _I_  in trouble?"

 

Yoruichi let out a chuckle.  "I don't think so.  Good job on decoding my message, by the way."

 

"Mmm.  You must be sick and tired of saving me by now."

 

"I was saving  _my_  ass, too."

 

"S'not what I…" Kisuke said, one hand gesturing hazily.  "I'd be dead if you hadn't…"

 

She watched him in silence as his guilt-ridden face fell into a frown, like he was struggling with concepts far too complex to put to words when under the influence of strong painkillers.  Eventually, he stopped trying to find the means to express whatever it was he had wanted to say and looked up at her through half-lidded eyes, a subtle smirk on his lips.

 

"So… truth," he said, his voice starting to slur.  "How jealous are you right now?"

 

Yoruichi sighed, reminding herself that attacking him within the walls of the Relief Station would likely not get her a second pass.  "I'll admit to a  _sliver_  of jealousy," she said.  "But I'll always have the image of Kisuke sashimi to console me whenever I feel that way."

 

Kisuke started laughing, matching the grin on her face, but his amusement was short-lived.  He started coughing and let out a groan, hand hovering over his abdomen.  Even though Captain Unohana had mentioned no wound or incision had been left, the area would still likely be very tender.

 

"You okay?" Yoruichi asked.

 

"Hnnn, fine, I jus'— Ohhhh…"

 

"What?  What is it?"

 

A long-drawn-out moan of pleasure escaped Kisuke's lips, his eyes glazing over.  "Oh, wow, now s'  _really_  start'n t' kick in…" he said, one hand fisting the bed sheet.  The muscles in his throat corded as he shut his eyes, head sinking down into the pillow.  "Fuuuuuuuck…"

 

Yoruichi bit down on her lip to keep from laughing out loud, now eagerly awaiting for the day he'd make a full recovery, so she could start bringing up this incident until it stopped being funny.  Which would be  _never_.  "You need some privacy?" she asked, smirking. 

 

Kisuke chuckled at that, letting out a sigh as his eyes slipped open again.  "Hey, Yoruichi…"

 

"Yes?"

 

There was more to his smile than lassitude, even though he was now visibly trying to stay awake.  Pride and elation was written all over his face, from the upward twitch of his lips to the crinkles by his eyes.  "I did it." 

 

She returned the smile.  "I know."

 

His lips moved but no sound came out as the hand on the mattress moved slowly toward hers, his fingers a little unsure in their movements.  "You stayin'?"

 

"Captain Unohana only let me in for a few minutes, she says you need to rest.  I'll come by tomorrow, okay?"

 

"Kay."

 

When his eyes slipped closed this time, they didn't reopen.  Yoruichi stayed on the bed, watching as he fell into a deep, peaceful slumber, the hand that had tried to reach for hers lying still on the mattress.  Yoruichi placed her palm over it, every now and then reaching for his pulse just to make sure it was still there.  The nurses allowed her to stay for a full fifteen minutes, despite Captain Unohana's orders.  

 

Before she left, and just because she was certain he would never know, Yoruichi bent down, sweeping his hair away to press her lips against his forehead.

 

* * *

 

 

**JANUARY 13 TH, 125 B.H.I., FOURTH DIVISION RELIEF STATION, COURT OF PURE SOULS – 6 PM**

 

She lost count of the times she had to reassure the nurses that the bento dinner she was carrying wasn't a gift for a patient, but was meant for herself.  Yoruichi strode down the corridor, grinning as she pictured the look on Kisuke's face when she'd take a seat right across him and start eating her mackerel sashimi piece by piece, as slowly and as leisurely as was possible.

 

Pushing the door to his room open, she stepped inside, making every attempt to look nonchalant, only to be greeted by the sight of his empty bed.  In fact, the whole room was vacant, both beds made and looking as though they hadn't been used in hours.

 

Frowning, Yoruichi checked the number by the door again.  She had made no mistake.   _Has he been moved?_   She made the trip all the way back to the reception, walking up to the nurse behind the desk.   

 

"Excuse me."

 

The blond man looked up at her with a genial smile.  "How may I help you?"

 

"I am here to visit Urahara Kisuke," she said.  "He was in room 304 up until this morning, but I assume he has been moved elsewhere?"

 

"Urahara Kisuke?  One moment, please…" the nurse said.  He turned to the file cabinet behind him and went through the name tags at the top of the folders.  "Urahara… Urahara… There it is," he said, fishing Kisuke's file out of the cabinet.  He laid it open in front of him, eyes skimming through the first couple of pages.  "I see here Officer Urahara has been discharged."

 

" _Already_?"

 

"Yes," the nurse said, a frown of disapproval forming on his face.  "He signed a DAMA form at noon."

 

"DA—?"

 

"Discharged against medical advice."

 

" _What_?" Yoruichi said, nearly dropping her package when she threw herself over the desk, wanting to see the file with her own eyes.  "Is that even…?  Is this allowed?"

 

"The patient was not in critical condition," the nurse said.  "Healers caution against this, but we cannot hold a patient against their will when their life is not in any immediate danger."

 

Yoruichi's face clouded while she read through the file, trying to find any clue as to why Kisuke might've been in a hurry to leave.  And more importantly, why he hadn't contacted her.

 

"Miss?  Please, I cannot grant you access to confiden—"

 

"He had a visitor?" Yoruichi said, her eyes coming to a stop upon sight of a name she couldn't quite make out upside down.  "Before me?"

 

"Yes," the nurse said, pulling the file out of her reach.  "Officer Nishimura of the Thirteenth."

 

_One of his colleagues, then?  Was there some sort of an emergency?_

 

"Is there anything else I can help you with?"

 

"I… No, thank you," Yoruichi said, turning her heel and hurrying outside.

 

Her two swift trips to his home and the Training Grounds yielded no results.  She headed to his division barracks next, hoping she hadn't wasted time in pointless pursuits.  In the end, it didn't matter.  At the Thirteenth Division, she was informed that a squadron of Soul Reapers had left for the Material World hours ago, Kisuke among them.

 

The reasoning behind his decision to return to active duty so soon still eluded her, as she made her way to the Onmitsukidō grounds.  It wasn't as though Kisuke didn't have a single reckless bone in his body.  He had several, in fact, but there had always been a method to his madness.  They both had enough sense not to cross beyond a point where recklessness outweighed sanity.  Kisuke in particular only ever took calculated risks, when the odds were staggeringly skewed in his favor.  The few times he'd acted on instinct without a solid plan had been out of desperation.

 

He had no reason whatsoever to refuse treatment after such a narrow brush with death, to head to battle in his state when they had all but officially won the war.  The Quincies had been decimated and Soul Society troops had returned home en masse, with only a few groups remaining behind to hunt down the last few stragglers.

 

 _What were you thinking?_  

 

If she were being entirely honest, what hurt the most was his refusal to confide in her, to let her in on whatever it was he was planning. 

 

Being in no mood for pointless pleasantries, Yoruichi gave the guard at the gate a cursory nod and stepped into the complex.

 

"First Officer Shihōin!"

 

Turning around, Yoruichi arched an eyebrow at the guard approaching her.  "Yes?"

 

"This missive was left for you by an officer of the Thirteen Divisions a few hours ago," the man said, handing her a small scroll.

 

 _Hours ago?_   Frowning, Yoruichi took the scroll in hand and tugged at the string.  The handwriting was immediately recognizable, but the contents of the letter were uncharacteristically laconic.  In the middle of the otherwise blank parchment, only two words had been written:       

 

_Thank you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ummm… surprise? xD;;; Yeah, that was what the tease concerning 'next two chapters' was all about in my previous closing notes. I'm not quite that sadistic as to keep you waiting for too long like, say, his captain exam to see the bankai, I promise. In fact, I'm making the reveal in the very next chapter. 
> 
> By the way, Apotheosis is a Greek word, meaning the elevation of someone to a god, or god-like status. As a literary device, and in the words of the great Joseph Campbell (whose writings on mythology were a major influence for this chapter), apotheosis is "the expansion of consciousness that the hero experiences after defeating his foe," or rather the hero's crowning achievement. The two often coincide, though not necessarily. 
> 
> There is one final tumblr entry I want to post concerning Kisuke's inner world and everything Benihime was saying after he defeated her, but it will be coming along with the next chapter, as it is chock-full of spoilers for the bankai, which is why I deliberately never went into depth before.  
> Let me know what you thought of the chapter! :)


	12. Entropy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Entropy: the measure of the disorder or randomness in a closed system. 
> 
> A strong M for violence and generally disturbing imagery in this one, guys. It ain't pretty. That is all.

 

 

* * *

 

_"I say unto you: one must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star._

_I say unto you: you still have chaos in yourselves."_

_– **Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spake Zarathustra**_

****

* * *

 

****

**JANUARY 13 TH, 125 B.H.I., FOURTH DIVISION RELIEF STATION, COURT OF PURE SOULS – 2 PM**

 

If it didn't mean returning to the barracks and back to mind-numbing paperwork, Nishimura Katsuo would've long ago left the hospital.  Urahara was a decent enough guy; Katsuo couldn't deny his subordinate had saved his ass more than once during the past three years, but when the kid got himself wrapped up in his own head, he was insufferable.

 

When Urahara had requested the reading material in his message, Katsuo hadn't given it much thought, figuring he might as well kill some time before deployment by paying Urahara a visit.  What he hadn't counted on was sitting in silence, while the little shit went through the reports one by one without so much as a word.

 

Yawning, Katsuo stretched on the empty cot opposite Urahara's and rolled over on his side.  "So how d'you even manage to get your ass kicked while on leave?" he asked.

 

Urahara's eyes continued to sweep over the documents line by line.  He'd either not heard, or simply disregarded the question —Katsuo was betting on the latter- and he was about to ask again, when Urahara answered.  "Training accident."

 

Katsuo let out a scoff at that.  "Don't you ever take a break, man?  Y'know… sit and watch the clouds or something?"

 

Honestly, he was making the rest of them look bad in comparison.  Katsuo himself had never had lofty aspirations of his career; even reaching fourth seat had been a bit of a head-scratcher.  Still, he didn't relish being shown up by a newcomer.  He suspected the only reason the kid hadn't been promoted already was a lack of open positions in their Division.  Katsuo wouldn't be surprised if the kid was snatched up by another Division in a few months.  As much grief as she gave the kid on a regular basis, Matsuo was going to have a fit if they lost him to another Division after personally scouting and mentoring him herself.

 

Urahara straightened up his hunched back, frowning at a particular document.  "Why wasn't this in the official collective report on Captain Arima's death?" he said.

 

"Mmmm?  What wasn't?"

 

"This account from a Fifth Division officer," Urahara said.  He stretched over the side of his cot, handing Katsuo the document.

 

Katsuo had a feeling he already knew the answer without needing to read the document.  Surely enough, when he skimmed through the text, his suspicion was confirmed.  "Because the officer who made this report wasn't a reliable eye-witness," Katsuo said.  "Says right here he only arrived at the scene after Captain Arima had already fallen and the Quincy fled soon after.  His observations were made with no context."

 

"It doesn't mean they weren't relevant."

 

"To what?" Katsuo said.  "The Captain's death wasn't a mystery; she was slain by an arrow that severed her Soul Sleep and was then decapitated.  End of story."

 

"The eye-witness mentioned that he didn't engage in battle that day, but his robes were torn when he returned to base."

 

"……And?"

 

Urahara frowned at the wall, one finger tapping against his temple.  He fell quiet once more, no longer leafing through reports.

 

"Are you done with this?" Katsuo said, not eager to sit through another bout of silence.  Even paperwork was preferable to this.  "I should be getting back to the barracks—"

 

To his great surprise, the kid came out of his stupor at once, pushing himself to the edge of his bed.  "I'm coming with," he said.  "What time are you getting deployed?"

 

"In a couple of— Hold on, you're not going anywhere," Katsuo said.  "You're in the friggin' hospital."

 

"I'm fine," Urahara said dismissively, making for the door.  "No wound, no pain, and I've rested plenty.  I'm only being kept here as a formality.  Nurse!"

 

 _Oh, I did not sign up for this shit,_  Katsuo thought, slipping off the bed.  The last thing he needed was having to deal with an uncooperative patient.  Especially one who didn't seem to mind his distracting state of undress.   _This is what I get for trying to skip paperwork._

 

"Urahara," Katsuo said, as the kid opened the door and peeked outside, in search for a medic.  "Even if they release you from the hospital, Matsuo will never give you permission to come along if you're not at one hundred percent."

 

"Nurse!" Urahara said, making a move to step out to the corridor.

 

Katsuo held him back by the scruff of the hospital gown.  "Your ass is hanging out for the world to see, you idiot!" he said.  "Sit back down and stop making a fuss.  I  _told_ you, Matsuo won't let you come if you go back to her with a DAMA—"

 

"Keep this quiet and I'll trade you one month of paperwork."

 

Katsuo stared at the kid's determined face, his resolve wavering.  He had no idea how exactly Urahara was planning on concealing the fact that he was leaving the hospital against medical advice, and something told him he didn't want to know.   _Fucking hell..._ "Fine," he said, rolling his eyes.  "But when she finds out the truth —and she  _will_ \- I had  _nothing_  to do with this."  

 

* * *

 

 

**JANUARY 14 TH, 125 B.H.I., 2ND DISTRICT MARKETPLACE, NORTHWEST RUKONGAI – 9 AM**

 

Yoruichi listlessly picked at her breakfast, the warm cup of tea nestled against her breast keeping her warm.  The din in the crowded teahouse did little to help keep her awake, only a faint buzz of unintelligible conversations reaching her ears.  She felt her bleary eyes grow heavy, already regretting her sleepless night, since there was nothing to keep her from returning to the barracks to rest.

 

Except for the nagging worry over what might be happening in Nagasaki.

 

In the absence of anything else to occupy herself with, she had made plans with Kūkaku to have breakfast and catch up.  Her friend didn't show up until half an hour past their prearranged meeting time, and in a highly unusual outfit, no less.

 

Kūkaku rushed into the teahouse, her cheeks flushed from the morning chill.  She rubbed her hands vigorously as she searched for Yoruichi, then approached the table, her long, white mantle flowing behind her.

 

"Haven't seen you wear  _that_  in a while," Yoruichi said, her eyes seizing up Kūkaku's cloak.  

 

She wasn't the only one who took an interest.  A number of patrons in the vicinity also seemed to recognize the pure white, high-collared cloak as a mark of nobility, the garb of the heir of one of the Five Great Clans.  Yoruichi's father always wore such a cloak for official business, and in a few short years, he would be passing it on to her.

 

Kūkaku took a seat across her, the golden tassels on the collar of her cloak swaying about.  "Counting the days till it's Kaien's.  He's welcome to take my place in schmoozing up to the formaldehyde squad any time," she said.

 

"You were at the Diet Building?" Yoruichi asked, setting down her cup on the table.  The outfit made sense, if that was the case.  Kūkaku's choice in kimono was decidedly more demure than her usual attire, the kind of clothing that put her voluptuous curves on display even in the dead of winter.

 

"Yup.  Your father says  _Hello_ , by the way," Kūkaku said, lighting up her pipe.  She blew the smoke off the corner of her mouth rather ostentatiously, fixing Yoruichi with a knowing gaze.  "Which was a bit odd… considering he sees you every day."

 

The server arriving to take Kūkaku's order gave Yoruichi the time to construct a passable response. 

 

"I spent the last few nights in the barracks," she said.  It was the truth, albeit one she might not have offered with such a sober expression were it not for the timely interruption.

 

"Mmmm… I thought you were on leave."

 

"I was.  Still am."

 

Kūkaku let out a sigh and rolled her eyes at Yoruichi.  "Cut him some slack, won't you?  It's been  _three years_."

 

There was no need to clarify what had transpired three years ago.  Though Yoruichi had never mentioned the specifics of her argument with her father, the matter had been discussed often enough that Kūkaku had undoubtedly filled in the blanks by herself.  Every now and then, she would ask if Yoruichi had consented to venture outside her private chambers whenever she stayed at the estate, only to receive the same negative response every single time. 

 

"I will cut him some slack when he admits he's the most stubborn person in the world!"

 

Kūkaku's lips curled around the nozzle of her pipe, her smirk broad and toothy.  "Most stubborn  _man_ , maybe.   _Person_?  Not so sure."

 

Yoruichi let out a huff, reaching for her tea again.  "Wait, why where you even—?  You were  _both_  at the Diet Building?" she said, pausing mid-movement.  In between her father being mentioned, she had forgotten to ask why Kūkaku had visited the Diet Building in the first place.  Hearing that her father was also somehow involved made the situation even more confounding.  "What's going on?"

 

"The Central 46 had been in session since dawn.  We've been talking to some of the councilmen, trying to rein in some of the insanity that's been gripping the realm lately."

 

"Insanity?  Are you talking about the Quincy War?"  

 

"What else would I be talking about?"

 

"It's the insanity bit I don't get," Yoruichi said, taking a sip off her cup.  "The war is practically over."

 

"Yes, about three years too late," Kūkaku said in a wry tone, leaning back in her chair.  "The Central 46 didn't address the matter as seriously as they should have at the beginning.  Two Lieutenants and one Captain dead against a handful of Quincies?  Not to mention countless rank and file Soul Reapers."

 

"What are you saying?"

 

Kūkaku took a long drag off her pipe, one hand massaging her temple.  "It is your father's opinion, and I agree, that this whole deal reeks of stalling tactics," she said.  "Having the laymen in a constant state of panic over the Quincy threat has proven to be quite handy.  It's allowed the Diet to pass legislation that would've never flown in times of peace.  Your father, old man Kuchiki and I have been actively trying to sway our retainers.  Get them to withdraw support whenever a particularly sketchy law is subject to voting." 

 

A pang of guilt shot through her at the sound of Kūkaku's words.  More than once, Yoruichi had resented the fact that her father hadn't tried to approach her in an effort to repair the damage inflicted on their relationship, choosing instead to focus on his many enterprises.  For many long months, he would stay locked within his study late into the night, emerging only for meals and looking haggard.  If she had known what had been troubling him—

 

 _Well… I wouldn't have exactly approached him myself,_  she thought, admitting as much to herself.  But she might have felt a little less bitter about it all.

 

"Hasn't been extremely successful," Kūkaku said.  "But we've had small victories here and there.  Had a pretty big one today."

 

"You did?"

 

"It's why I stood you up, we were waiting outside the chambers to hear the verdict," Kūkaku said.  "The Central 46 have agreed to authorize a large scale operation against the last Quincy stronghold in Nagasaki.  They want this over with, too; it's served them well enough, but now it's become an embarrassment.  They've even ordered Commander Sasagawa to mobilize Onmitsukidō troops to aid the hunt."

 

The fatigue of her all-nighter now entirely forgotten, Yoruichi scooted forward into her seat, almost dropping her cup.  "I— The  _Commander_  was there?"

 

Kūkaku nodded.  "Getting the Onmitsukidō involved was his suggestion," she said.  "Your dad doesn't like him very much, does he?  But I have to admit, I don't think we would've had a verdict so soon if it weren't for his input."

 

Though her mind was already racing, Yoruichi couldn't resist rolling her eyes at Kūkaku's observation; it was so blatant, even  _she_  had noticed after a single interaction.  "Yes, father doesn't approve of  _anyone_  who actually listens to what I have to say and treats me like an adult."

 

Kūkaku gave a short pause, her eyes softening a little as she regarded Yoruichi.  "I get why you're mad at him.  But your father is not an unreasonable man.  Perhaps he has cause to feel that way."

 

Having no time for a heart-to-heart in the face for more pressing matters, Yoruichi bypassed Kūkaku's words and rose up from her chair, digging into her pockets for her money bag.  "Listen, I hate to cut this short, but if we're meant to be preparing—"

 

There was a sympathetic look in Kūkaku's eyes as she offered the next tidbit of information.  "Executive Militia only.  Sorry, kiddo."

 

Yoruichi went still, her eyes boring into Kūkaku's as she processed her friend's words.  In retrospect, it had been more than a little foolish to get ahead of herself; even a big operation didn't excuse the presence of her division in the Material World.  "Makes sense…" she said, plopping back into her seat, a slump in her shoulders.  "The Scouting Unit?" she said. 

 

As the unit in charge of hunting down Hollows in Soul Society, they were the ideal choice.  Men and women with well-honed senses, highly developed stealth capabilities and impeccable reflexes.  They were only surpassed by the Assassination Unit of the same division, whose duties lied in employing the exact same skillset in search of former allies turned traitors.

 

"Actually, both.  Your cousin is leading the operation, I hear."

 

 _Figures,_  she thought, scowling.  Such a task was beneath the Commander himself, but it fell right into the purview of the Lieutenant of the division. 

 

"Urahara's there?  In Nagasaki?" Kūkaku said.

 

Yoruichi nodded.

 

"Well, I wouldn't worry," Kūkaku said, her voice taking on an optimistic tone that was unlike her.  Though far from a pessimist, Kūkaku was above all realistic.  Yoruichi had to wonder just how pathetic she must've looked if Kūkaku was making a concerted effort to lift her spirits by lying to her.  "The Onmitsukidō aren't the only forces they're sending over.  The Thirteen are preparing to mobilize, as well.  The Central 46 wants this matter closed by tomorrow."

 

 _Tomorrow may already be too late._   

  

* * *

 

 

**JANUARY 14 TH, 125 B.H.I., COURTYARD, ONMITSUKIDŌ COMPLEX, COURT OF PURE SOULS – 9:30 AM**

 

In the courtyard below her, all eighty six men of the Executive Militia stood at attention.  Two platoons, five patrols overall, lined up in groups of six per squad.  Before them, Akira paced along the top, hands folded behind his back as he went through what Yoruichi assumed was an overview of the mission specifics.  Two members of the kidō corps were silently working on creating a portal the Onmitsukidō troops would use to relocate to Nagasaki.

 

Perched atop the wall as she was, even her feline hearing wasn't sensitive enough to pick up the details.  Stomach flattened against the surface, Yoruichi could feel her tail twitch as her resolve fluctuated between flight and perseverance.

 

Still on leave, with no-one dogging her steps or looking into her whereabouts, she could have easily left for Nagasaki on her own hours ago, perhaps even yesterday when she had first received news of Kisuke's departure.  But the danger of finding herself displaced in space and time was far too high when she wasn't familiar with the actual area she would be opening a portal on.  Kisuke had impressed as much upon her long ago: knowledge of the geographical location wasn't reliable information to go on.

 

As such, she had no way of knowing what had transpired in the eighteen hours since the Thirteenth Division's deployment.  For all she knew, Kisuke could be back at the outpost, unharmed, his reasons for leaving the hospital entirely reasonable.  Past experience, however, told her that she had every reason to feel worry. 

 

_"You must be sick and tired of saving me by now."_

 

 _No, you idiot,_  she thought, golden eyes locked upon Akira.   _But must you_ ** _always_** _go big when you get yourself in trouble?_  He was nothing if not consistent, at the very least. 

 

Down at the courtyard, Akira's speech came to its inevitable end, the troops beginning to mobilize toward the now open gate.  

 

Yoruichi's fur stood on end.  If she chose to go through with this, it would be the first true test for her stealth form.  Aside from the difficult task of avoiding detection from Soul Reapers who were trained to look for the concealed, there was a far more pressing worry to take into consideration:  Would her Hell Butterfly get activated in this form, or would she be forced to go through the Dangai, with no protection from the oncoming Wresting Flow?  Was she fast enough to outrun the Kōtotsu, should she be unlucky enough to have it show up?  Any molding of spiritual energy was said to attract the Flow, but were Flash Steps included?  Could she inadvertently get herself trapped by trying to escape?

 

One by one, the Onmitsukidō squads disappeared through the portal as she watched, consumed with doubt and more fear than she dared admit to herself.  It was now or never; she had a better chance of staying out of sight upon arrival with a larger crowd.   _Come on, come on, move, move, MOVE!_   Her paws remained rooted in place, nails digging into the unyielding stone painfully as the tiny heart drummed in her chest.   _I can do this.  I can_ ** _do_** _this.  I HAVE to do this.  Or Kisuke might… He…_      

 

A gentle, soothing surge of warmth went through her –Maya's gentle encouragement- and jaw clenched, Yoruichi dove off the wall, coming into a soft landing on the courtyard.  Not allowing herself to wallow in doubt, or even think at all lest she turn craven again, she trotted forward, under cover of the shade cast by the wall.

 

Once she got as close to the portal as possible without revealing herself, she paused, eyes wary for any onlookers while she waited for the opportune moment.  When she was reasonably satisfied she would remain unseen, she darted forward, becoming one with the surroundings as she slipped straight into the sea of black and through the portal. 

 

Focused on pressing on ahead, she didn't even stop to worry over entering the portal.  Soul Society disappeared into a warp behind her, but instead of being greeted by the sight of the Soul Reaper outpost, she found herself stepping into a dark cavern, the walls rapidly closing in around her.   _The Dangai.  Dammit!_   Jaw clenched in determination, she refused to let this complication throw her and she fell into a sprint, heading straight for the exit at the end of the tunnel.   _Don't look, don't look, keep your eyes on the exit,_  she thought as she felt the world collapse around her.  Every well-ingrained instinct in her body was urging her to employ Flash Steps, but she ignored the persistent voices in her head, pushing herself to run faster, faster, and there it was, the exit, she was almost there, almost through.   _Just one.  Final.  Push._  

 

There was a bright flash of white as she dove into the portal, and the next thing she saw in between the black-clad legs of the Onmitsukidō men were the signs of lush vegetation.  It was over.  She was through.  There was little time to waste on relief, and she weaved through the squad members, careful not to brush up against anyone and betray her presence.

 

It wasn't until she was safely hidden in the thick undergrowth of a tree that she was able to finally breathe and slow down.  Carefully, she reached out, seeking any signs of a spiritual pressure in the vicinity on alert, for anyone who might have caught wind of her.  She found none.  

 

Slipping past the Onmitsukidō platoons would be far easier in this landscape, but first, she needed to assess the situation.  There was no sign of Kisuke anywhere in the crowded encampment, though fading vestiges of his essence were present all throughout the outpost.  As she peered through the branches of the bush, Yoruichi could see Soul Reapers milling about through bedrolls and campfires to get the Onmitsukidō soldiers settled. 

 

Akira himself didn't show up until the last squad made its arrival.  By then, one of Kisuke's co-workers whom Yoruichi only vaguely recognized was waiting by the portal to receive him.

 

The portal warped out of existence behind him, and Akira surveyed the scene with his sharp, dark eyes.  "What is the situation here?" he said.

 

Kisuke's colleague greeted Akira and introduced himself as third seat Ito Benjiro, before launching into his report.  "A few scouting teams were deployed yesterday, but they returned at dusk with no new intel on the whereabouts of our enemies," he said.  "At 0800 hours we received a missive from Soul Society, ordering us to stand by for upcoming orders, followed by a second missive an hour later informing us we were to be joined by the rest of the Divisions and your troops, sir.  Lieutenant Matsuo was waiting on your arrival to begin the debriefing." Ito motioned at Akira to follow him along the path leading deeper into the camp.

 

Akira gave his troops a flick of his hand to signal them to stay put, and fell in line with Ito.  Deciding this was her best chance to get some answers, Yoruichi followed along, her spiritual pressure compressed down to nonexistence.  

 

"Is every Division present and accounted for?" Akira said, as he glanced around the camp.

 

"Yes, sir," Ito said, a knot forming on his brow.  "Well… except for…"

 

"You're missing someone?"

 

"One of our own," Ito said.  "Or rather, two men, including the one sent after our missing officer."

 

Yoruichi's stomach sank at the sound of these words.  There was no need for Ito to confirm who the missing officer was.

 

"Have you ruled out the possibility of a kidnapping, desertion, or perhaps this person being an informant—?"

 

"Lieutenant Matsuo thinks it's neither," Ito said.  "Though of course, we cannot rule out any possibility.  The officer in question was adamant that a scouting party depart last night, but his request was denied by Lieutenant Matsuo, who was waiting on Soul Society's orders.  At dawn, we discovered the man had gone missing and another officer was sent after him.  Neither has returned yet."

 

Yoruichi didn't know whether she should feel relieved or not that Kisuke had initially brought his concerns –whatever they were- forward to a superior before acting on his own.  Was the situation so time-sensitive that he'd truly felt it merited his direct involvement, permission or no?

 

"Who is this person?" Akira said, rounding up on Ito.  "How can the Lieutenant be so certain we're not dealing with a traitor—?"

 

"Because I know my own men well enough."  Lieutenant Matsuo stepped forward, approaching the Akira and Ito.  Behind her, Captains Oda and Sugimura were hunched over a table studying what looked like a map.  Matsuo gave Akira a curt nod in acknowledgement.  "Lieutenant Shihōin.  We are grateful for your assistance."

 

Akira nodded back.  "Lieutenant Matsuo."

 

"As I was saying," Matsuo said.  "Urahara may be a lot of things, but he doesn't strike me as a traitor."

 

A small, illogical part of Yoruichi had been holding out hope that Kisuke might turn out to be the member sent after the missing officer, instead.  As her jaw clenched at the confirmation, she saw that she wasn't the only one who had a reaction to the sound of a familiar name.

 

" _Urahara_?" Akira said, forgetting his pedigree for a moment and gaping at Matsuo.  "Urahara Kisuke?   _He's_  your missing officer?"

 

Matsuo arched an eyebrow at this.  "You are acquainted?"

 

"Blond fellow?" Akira said, a curious look of resignation on his face.  "Tall?  Prone to skulking around?"

 

"You  _do_  know him."

 

"Oh, I  _know_  him, all right," Akira said.  Giving his head an imperceptible shake, he turned to Lieutenant Matsuo.  "Officer Ito here mentioned Urahara requested a scouting party depart last night?"

 

"He did."

 

"On what grounds?"

 

"He claimed he had a theory regarding the Quincy hideout," Matsuo said.  "When I asked him to share his thoughts, he said he wouldn't know for certain until he had laid eyes on the scene.  He insisted we not only leave that very night, but that he also join the vanguard.  Naturally, I refused.  He's a clever kid, and I won't deny his past strategies have been quite successful, but—"

 

"You needn't explain yourself, Lieutenant," Akira said.  "I do not question your decision to wait for orders, nor will I pretend to be surprised by Urahara's behavior.  I have long known him to be insubordinate and irresponsible behind a veneer of benevolence, and I cannot fault you for allowing him to escape; you certainly wouldn't be the first person he has ever successfully deceived."

 

It was hard to tell who was most offended by his words: Yoruichi herself, or Lieutenant Matsuo, who was being spoken to like a simpleton who didn't know the first thing about her own troops.  Not that Akira was entirely wrong in his assessment.  But even that knowledge didn't help keep Yoruichi's temper in check, as she felt the sudden need to plunge her claws in every single soft part of Akira's body.

  

"That having been said," Akira went on.  "We would be foolish not to give his claims a certain amount of weight.  Whatever his many other faults, he is highly perceptive, loathe though I am to admit it." 

  

"I am well aware," Lieutenant Matsuo said.  "Going through Urahara's personals was my first move as soon as he was discovered missing, but no-one was able to make head nor tail of his notes.  You are welcome to try, if you believe you might be able to offer us some insight," she said, motioning toward a solitary bedroll on the side.  "But it will have to wait until after the debriefing."   

 

Yoruichi waited until Akira and Ito Benjiro had joined Matsuo in conference with the Division Captains, before approaching the bedroll as closely as she dared.  From her hiding spot behind the tree, she took the time to study the area, trying to formulate a plan.

 

Traces of Kisuke's essence clung all over the area.  One of his journals had been haphazardly discarded onto the lumpy bedroll.  She had no doubt the answer to this sudden disappearance could be found somewhere within the untidy scrawls of text and sketches, if only one knew how to decipher his chaotic train of thought.  Though Yoruichi couldn't claim she was always successful, she'd had enough practice to be confident she could at least make more headway than anyone else could.  When she was certain the coast was clear, she dashed forward, grabbed the journal between her teeth, and retreated to a secluded spot by the treeline to examine its contents.

 

At the very least, she was grateful Kisuke had always practiced such impeccable organizational skills when it came to his scientific endeavors.  Aside from the occasional, incomprehensible brain wave he would hurry to scribble on the margins –"It's not science until you write it down!"- all his journals were ordered by date and subject.  Apparently, this was journal number four of his observations on Quincies during his tenure in Nagasaki. 

 

The journal was filled with rant after rant on his obsession with discovering the Quincy hideout.  He spent whole pages writing about how the Quincy spiritual signatures seemed to vanish into thin air without a trace, how his Division had scoured the entire area without finding a single sign of their presence, and his increasingly complex theories as to how such a thing was possible.  

 

The latest entries were all focused on Quincy technology.  As Yoruichi flipped her paw through the pages, she could see numerous sketches of pentacle-like medallions – _Appears to be focal point of Quincy bow.  Generator, perhaps?  Seems to be designed to attract and condense energy-_ and objects that resembled blades.  Kisuke had drawn a single blade first, pointing to a sketch of a strange spiked contraption, the text next to which read:  _Five blades converging on center.  Results in massive blast and tremendous release of energy._   It was all quite interesting, but she couldn't see anything that might explain his eagerness to lead a scouting party in the middle of the night, as Lieutenant Matsuo had claimed.  

  

On the last page, Kisuke had drawn a small, cylindrical object.  On its surface, it bore the Quincy Zeichen, and a second sketch showed the cylinder's top flipped open, revealing it to be a container.  Next to it, Kisuke had written:   _Usage in combat is as of yet unknown, have only retrieved samples from captured enemies.  Capacitor?  Appears to contain trace amounts of_ ** _Quincy spiritual energ_**

 

The last few words had been written with enough force to rip through the page, and were underlined three times.  Kisuke hadn't even bothered to finish his sentence.  On the opposite page, Yoruichi could see splotches of black ink that bore a striking resemblance to the end of that sentence in mirror image. 

 

 _Well_ ** _that_** _settles it._  

 

Something about the small object and its usage as a storage device had captured Kisuke's interest.  And Matsuo had mentioned he'd insisted on examining the scene before sharing his theory out loud. 

 

_I need to track him down and retrace his steps._

 

* * *

 

 

**JANUARY 14 TH, 125 B.H.I., OUTSIDE NAGASAKI, JAPAN – 10 AM**

 

The sleek, black body weaved through the forest effortlessly.  Yoruichi could feel the seven members of the Advance Squad moving behind her: five Soul Reapers, joined by one Onmitsukidō man and led by Akira.  They were following the waning trail of Quincy spiritual energy that still clung to the trees and the ground, like cobweb tendrils nestled in the crevices of a room.  Unbeknownst to them, a second layer of spiritual energy lay below in obfuscation, unreachable by their inferior senses but evident to hers.

 

The two separate trails held different origins, but had eventually converged, following an identical course from then on.  The second trail was easily recognizable as the remnants of Soul Reaper spiritual energy.  Two individuals.  One of them proficient in masking his spiritual presence, the other one moderately so.  Only trace amounts of the first person's signature remained, degenerated to the point of no recognition.  Not unless the pursuer was intimately familiar with the signature in its original form.

 

And Yoruichi just so happened to be.

 

Paws skidding over the loamy earth, Yoruichi hastened forward, her sensitive nose picking up on the subtle change in the environment's scent.  Kisuke's lingering trail was quickly getting stronger.  Her ears pricked up.   _He made a stop somewhere around here_ , she thought, but before she could revel in her discovery, it became clear that his scent wasn't the only one growing stronger.  The second Soul Reaper, the man sent after Kisuke by their Lieutenant, was nearby.  And the Advance Squad had also picked up on his presence.

 

Cursing through gritted teeth, Yoruichi leapt onto a tree and scaled up the length of the trunk.  Having to move about in stealth was a wrench in her plans, but there was no helping it.  She needed to survey the area Kisuke made a stop at, and all signs pointed to it being the location where the second Soul Reaper was.

 

She heard Akira give his men the order to change course, and she allowed the squad to gain some distance from her.  They came to a halt a short way ahead, zeroing in on the spiritual presence of the second Soul Reaper.  Yoruichi approached, careful not to disturb the foliage as she jumped from branch to branch. 

 

The trails of all four spiritual signatures ended at this very clearing.  Yoruichi was troubled to find that she could no longer detect even the slightest suggestion of Kisuke's spiritual energy in the environment.

 

The man in question, a Soul Reaper she had often seen in Kisuke's company, was sitting down by the roots of a tree, his back resting against the trunk.  His left ankle appeared to be injured, and the unconscious bodies of two Quincy lay down by his side.  Upon sight of the approaching squad, the Soul Reaper looked up in momentary alarm, before his shoulders relaxed again, his hands cradling his ankle. 

 

Akira landed beside him in a soft thud, and the man identified himself as Nishimura Katsuo, Third Seat officer of the Thirteenth Division.  As the Advance Squad went about providing first aid, Yoruichi kept only one ear on the ensuing conversation, too preoccupied with trying to scout the area for any sign of Kisuke.

 

"…look, if I  _knew_  what the hell is going on in Urahara's head I would share the information," Nishimura said testily.  Yoruichi put her current efforts on hold, ears turning in the direction of his voice.  "But I'm telling you all I know: I tracked him down just before the ambush, we fought the two Quincy, I got injured, then he healed the worst of my injury and just up and vanished."

 

"He didn't say anything?" Akira said, arms folded before his chest.  "Give you any indications—?"

 

"All he said was that he had a  _good idea_  as to where the hideout was, and that I shouldn't follow even if I could," Nishimura said.  "Then he checked the two Quincy for vital signs, secured their bindings, told me to keep signaling for a rescue party, and then he left."

 

Nishimura's narration of the events was proving unsatisfactory for Akira.  He kept probing for details, while the rest of his squad stood watch over the area and finished applying bindings to Nishimura's ankle.  Yoruichi followed the conversation religiously, hoping for any throw-away comment she might be able to make sense of, but Kisuke appeared to have been just as tight-lipped with his colleague when it came to his plan. 

 

Even more frustratingly, her swift survey of the surrounding area had come up with nothing of use.  All she'd been able to track was a faint trail of Kisuke's essence intermingled with Quincy spiritual energy, but his behavior was just as erratic and senseless as Nishimura had described.  For whatever reason, Kisuke had spent a fair amount of time pacing back and forth all over the clearing without leaving its confines, until his signature had eventually disappeared.

 

Yoruichi was beginning to think he had deliberately left a false trail behind, perhaps retraced his steps back to the starting point and set out in a new direction.  It was possible that she might have missed a deviation in course while focused on the more dominant scent.  Deciding she had no better leads at this time, she was waiting for the squad to leave the area with Nishimura and the two Quincy bodies, when something caught her attention.

 

As one of the Soul Reapers shouldered the unconscious body of a Quincy, the light reflected off the latter's belt.  The weapons he carried were identical to what Yoruichi had seen sketched out in Kisuke's journal.  There was a row of those slim blades, and a set of the silver cylinders, the containers Kisuke had been so fascinated with.  And one of them was missing.

_"Then he checked the two Quincy for vital signs, secured their bindings, told me to keep signaling for a possible rescue party, and then he left."_

 

 _Appears to contain trace amounts of_ **_ Quincy spiritual energy _ ** __

 

_"…then he healed the worst of my injury and just up and vanished."_

 

In a sudden flash of understanding, Yoruichi felt her fur stand on end.  Kisuke hadn't  _vanished_ ; he'd discovered the entrance to the Quincy hideout.  If there was any weight to his most prevalent theory –that entry was granted only to Quincy spiritual energy- it was what had caused him to abandon his writing mid-sentence and request a scouting party depart last night. 

 

She could picture him with perfect clarity, his eyes wild, arms and tongue moving a mile a minute as he tried to convey his certainty that he'd figured out the answer, only to have his histrionics brushed off. 

 

It still didn't quite explain why he'd left his colleague behind, when he was more than capable of healing such a minor injury, but it mattered little right now.  First, she needed to confirm her theory, which would prove quite hard to do if she waited too long and allowed the squad to depart with the two Quincy in tow.

 

 _Desperate times call for desperate measures_ , she thought.  If nothing else, this was a unique opportunity to test just how well this form could handle her  _true_  speed.

 

Falling into a Flash Step, she materialized right by the second body's side, just as one of Akira's men was picking him up.  There was no time to lament her awkward landing.  She secured one of the metal tubes between her jaws, and fell into a second Flash Step, landing on top of a thick bough in the tree above.

 

 _Sloppy,_  she thought, teeth clenching on the hard surface of the cylinder.   _When I get that idiot out of this mess, I'm making him time my Flash Steps in cat form._  

 

The Soul Reaper did a double-take, perhaps convinced the sudden flash of black was a trick of the light, but otherwise went about his business.  For all intents and purposes she had been successful, yet Yoruichi noticed Akira's senses going on alert as he helped Nishimura to his feet, his hawk-like gaze sweeping the scene.  Though she remained undiscovered, she paid for her carelessness, as the Advance Squad took their sweet time before evacuating the clearing, Akira ordering his troops to scout the area numerous times.  Eventually, the squad split in two, with four members carrying Nishimura and the Quincy back to the outpost, while Akira and the remaining two men moved on ahead in search of Kisuke and the sole remaining Quincy.

 

When she was satisfied she was in the clear, Yoruichi dropped down to the ground, the metallic tube still secured between her teeth.  She retraced Kisuke's movements, coming to a stop before a tree at the end of his trail, where his spiritual signature remained the strongest. 

 

Knowing she only had one shot at this, she shifted back to human form, dropping down to her knees before the trunk of the tree.  There was nothing special about it that she could see or sense.  Its sole differentiating trait from any other tree in the clearing was the fact that it was crawling with Kisuke's spiritual energy.  Frowning, Yoruichi ran her palms over the trunk, looking for any tactile clue that might help her follow Kisuke's train of thought.

 

There was a sudden change in sensation, her fingertips going from grazing over rough bark to a small, smooth patch.  To the naked eye, it was no different to the rest of the trunk, but on touch, the shift in texture was unmistakable.  Her heart rate picking up, Yoruichi explored the patch, her nails digging into a set of ridges.  There was a shape carved in there, and she closed her eyes, trying to picture it in her mind's eye as she traced it over and over.   _Four beams… No wait…_ ** _Five_** _.  Five beams converging in the center.  The Quincy Zeichen?_

 

Yoruichi opened her eyes again, her right hand fixed upon the spot on the bark.  The carving was obviously significant, a marker, but she had no idea how to proceed.  There was no discernible pressure point, which meant that the marker was probably not a lever of sorts.  The only obvious step, given Kisuke's notes, was to try and use the cylinder she had stolen just moments ago, but she would only get one shot at this.  If her deduction was wrong, it would all be for nothing.

 

Letting out a sigh, Yoruichi unscrewed the top of the tube with her free hand and held it up before the invisible marker, holding her breath as the Quincy spiritual energy poured out.

 

There was a faint rustling sound, as though a long sheet of fabric was being dragged over a surface, and the tree before her disappeared from sight, giving way to a cleanly dug hole in the ground.  The way down was steeped in darkness, but she could make out the beginnings of a stairway.

 

 _This probably won't stay open for long,_  Yoruichi thought, closing her gaping mouth.  Steeling herself, she slipped down through the hole just in time to hear the snap of the trapdoor closing behind her, the illusion now back in place.

 

Yoruichi shifted into her cat form, the ink-like darkness dissolving behind her feline eyes.  Taking in a deep breath, she stepped into the long tunnel leading to the unknown.   

  

* * *

 

 

**JANUARY 14 TH, 125 B.H.I., QUINCY HIDEOUT, OUTSIDE NAGASAKI, JAPAN – 10:30 AM**

 

It was an involuntary reaction: the shift from near-complete darkness to light made him bring his arm up sharply, shielding his eyes from the sudden assault.  Kisuke stepped out of the tunnel, his steps faltering somewhat, shocks of white flashing behind his shut eyelids.

 

Eyes watering, he blinked at his blurry, green surroundings, his vision slowly coming into focus.  The forested area was not unlike any he had encountered outside Nagasaki, but a distinct sense of unfamiliarity hung in the air, convincing him he had never before seen this particular configuration of wildlife.  This was uncharted territory.  

 

Kisuke stepped forward, one hand hovering over Benihime's hilt.  There was a path cutting through the thick vegetation, a well-worn ribbon of dirt bearing the marks of footsteps.  Some of them were fresh, but most appeared to be several days old.  The path led into a small grove, and if he'd had any reservations that he had reached the elusive hideout of their Quincy adversaries, they were dissolved upon arrival.

 

The grass had been cleared out, a modest camp set up in a large patch of earth.  Bedrolls in various state of disarray were laid out in a circle around a campfire.  Kisuke approached, kneeling down by the hearth and hovered his hand over the greyed coals.  They were still warm, yet the abandoned plates and cutlery were stained with the remnants of an old meal.  The presence of Quincy spiritual energy was apparent throughout the camp, but there was only one distinct signature, belonging to the scar-faced man.  Whoever else had once sought shelter in this camp hadn't set foot in the hideout in a while.

 

Kisuke stood up, eyes sweeping over the area.  The trail left behind by the Quincy was vibrant, leading out of the camp and into the forest.  He hadn't bothered to disguise his spiritual presence, and though it was highly possible that he simply hadn't expected any outsiders to track him down, Kisuke had a feeling it had been a deliberate act.

 

_**"Careful.  This is most likely a trap."** _

 

_I know._

 

Pushing through a curtain of foliage, Kisuke followed the trail deeper into the forest.  To his surprise, a second desire line had been formed on the forest floor, evidence that it was a route traveled often.  The way forward was clear, and about half-way through the short straight path, the dirt road had been paved. 

 

The winding stone steps led up the slope, and over to an old building whose architecture made Kisuke pause in his steps.  It was unlike any other structure he had ever seen: large and spacious, its gabled roof was topped at the front with a strange-looking spire that ended in a cross.  The windows populating the walls were oddly-shaped, rectangular with pointed arches, and outfitted with colored glass.  Kisuke took a few wary steps up the small staircase leading to the entrance.  The large double doors at the front had nearly rotted with age.  Riddled with splinters, the wood was porous and slightly damp to the touch, the rusted hinges stiff and groaning under the strain when he pushed the doors open.

 

The peculiar building harbored a stifling atmosphere within, the must of neglect and decay, laced with faint traces of incense.  Whatever source of light had once illuminated this place was long gone.  A few beams of sunlight had managed to penetrate the thick canopy outside and had filtered through the colored glass, bathing the dark enclosure in a haze of red and blue.  As his eyes began to adjust to the darkness, Kisuke took in his surroundings. 

 

A long aisle that led all the way to the back split the large hall in two, each side populated by rows of bench-like seats.  The ceiling rose high, supported by two lines of columns that met up into pointed arches at the front of the hall.  The rest of the columns acted as a buttress to two identical balconies on either side that overlooked the ground floor.  Though he could not see them, Kisuke assumed that two staircases leading to the second floor could be found somewhere on either corner at the back of the building.    

 

The floor beneath his sandals felt uneven, somehow, as though he were stepping upon gravel, and when he looked down, Kisuke saw that the aisle was paved with a colorful mosaic.  Swirls of blue and yellow spread like waves, its sides lined with white crosses.  The long aisle came up to an end before a structure that, while foreign like the rest of the building, brought to mind the image of an altar.

 

It was there that a lone silhouette stood, his back turned to Kisuke.  The Quincy was making no effort to contain his spiritual pressure, and though Kisuke could detect no harmful intent, he was on his guard as he stepped forward.

 

His suspicions that this was a shrine of some sort were confirmed when he reached the first row of seats; two statues of the goddess Kannon flanked the aisle.  But as his eyes swept over them when he walked past, Kisuke could tell there was something off, and it didn't take long to discover what.  The necklace nestled in the valley between the goddess's breasts was atypical for Kannon, and yet by now familiar.   _A cross, again.  Is this some sort of symbol?_  

 

Every now and then, along the decrepit walls, a piece of artwork hung off the brittle wood.  Though the details were difficult to discern from a distance, Kisuke could immediately tell that the hangings were unlike any other religious imagery he had ever seen.  The art style was decidedly Japanese, yet the female figure that kept cropping up in all manner of scenes, usually accompanied by a suckling child, was  _not_  Kannon.   _But she is obviously meant to evoke Kannon.  Why?_   

 

As he approached the end of the hall, Kisuke could clearly make out the Quincy, standing before the altar stone, his back turned.  Before him, an elaborate mural dominated the wall.  It reached all the way up to the ceiling, yet another depiction of a religious scene.  There was the faux Kannon once more, kneeling beside a man while she embraced the nameless child.  Above them, a male, bearded figure was enveloped in clouds, his brow dark and contorted in a scowl, his stern eyes watching over the entire world.

 

The Quincy boy cut a striking figure in his blindingly white kimono.  Any lingering doubts on his intentions were dissolved upon sight of the array of weapons about his person.  A belt carrying the familiar metallic blades hung around his waist, as well as a large pouch that likely held more weaponry or spellcasting reagents.  Interestingly enough, on his right hand, the boy wore a glove that bore a sharp protuberance.  It was an accessory he had never before seen on any of the Quincies he had encountered.  Its style, however, did match the description of a similar artifact used by the boy's father, who had taken down Captain Arima months ago.  Though the Quincy's bow was missing, Kisuke knew it could be conjured at a moment's notice.

 

The Quincy moved imperceptibly, shifting his head to the side as Kisuke came to a stop behind him.  A swath of blue light fell across the long scar that ran from his temple down to the side of his mouth.

 

"Is it over?" he said.         

 

Kisuke's fingertips grazed the surface of Benihime's sheath.  "It is," he said. 

 

The Quincy nodded, one hand lingering on the altar table as he turned to face Kisuke. 

 

It was the first time he was being afforded a close-up view of his opponent, and Kisuke could now appreciate just how young he truly was.  Probably no older than twenty, tall and lithe, a fringe of jet black hair framing amber eyes that belonged to a far older soul.  His expression of defeat didn't last long, giving way to something more appropriate of the much-lauded Quincy pride.

 

"I mean no offense," the Quincy said, his lips stretching out faintly.  "But I expected someone of greater, ah…  _clout_  to be sent to apprehend me."

 

Kisuke returned the grin.  They had crossed paths often enough for him to know that the parade of Soul Reapers deployed to Nagasaki had included men and women of far higher rank and ability.  "I wasn't sent here," Kisuke said.  "But there _is_  a standing order for your execution.  You are a wanted man."

 

The Quincy laughed.  "Execution?  Is this the Soul Reaper way of bestowing honor upon your enemy?  Surely, with our numbers decimated, one lone Quincy poses no threat."  He must've known it was a lie, fully aware of the trouble this  _lone Quincy_  and his father had caused Soul Society.  If he was looking for affirmation, however, he was about to be disappointed. 

 

"My superiors would rather tie up all loose ends," Kisuke said.  "Those who are not judged to be a high flight risk will be allowed to live.  Under strict surveillance."

 

"But not me."

 

A pause.  "No.  Not you."

 

With a nod, the Quincy turned his gaze to the floor, and the elaborate mosaic that swirled about his feet.

 

"Would you have come quietly, if that weren't the case?" Kisuke said.

 

There was a smirk on the young man's face, and a glint in his eyes as he faced Kisuke again.  "You wouldn't have  _wanted_  me to come quietly either way.  You came here looking for a fight, Soul Reaper."

 

"Well... You made it easy enough for me to follow you here, wherever  _here_  is."

 

The Quincy leaned back against the altar table, pointing at the mural on the wall behind him.  " _Kakure Kirishitan_.  Do you know what that means?"

 

"Hidden… something."

 

"Hidden Christians," the Quincy said.  It was a strange word, harsh-sounding and heavy on consonants like the language of the Dutch, but it flowed naturally from the boy's mouth.  "Secret followers of a religion.  Not widespread in this part of the world, but significant enough to be outlawed.  You're standing in what remains of a former church.  Or rather, a makeshift, underground one.  Hence the  _hidden_  part."

 

Something in the Quincy's words stirred a three-year old memory awake.  Kisuke was reminded of reading Matsuo's report on the Dejima merchants.  Among the strict regulations on foreign trade, the import of religious items had been expressly forbidden by the Japanese government, along with the practice of certain rites, like burial of their dead.  It stood to reason that such restrictions had been imposed due to precedent.   _The Dutch haven't just been smuggling in religious artifacts,_ Kisuke thought.   _They have been harboring men who would be persecuted for their beliefs_.  The Dutch immigrants who had landed on Japan before their religion was banned could have very well included Quincy in their midst.

 

"And you are… comfortable with this?" Kisuke said.  "Leading me into a house of worship?"

 

"This place hasn't seen any parishioners in a long time.  And even if it had… would it really matter?" the Quincy said, turning his back to Kisuke once more.  His eyes sought the face of faux Kannon for a moment, before they moved up to the austere figure rising out of the clouds.  "Gods must surely tear their gaze away from humanity in times of war.  How else would we be capable of forgiving ourselves for such brutality, if their eyes were trained upon us, witnessing our sins?"

 

Though Kisuke had no knowledge of what the deity on the wall was meant to be like, he couldn't help but fid the Quincy's words strange.  War was a regrettable, though inevitable aspect of life, like sin itself.  Absolution was not outside the reach of man, but rather part of the eternal struggle toward betterment, toward enlightenment.  Gods were not part of the equation, whether one believed in omnipotent metaphysical beings or not.

 

"At any rate… I thought you might appreciate the ambience," the Quincy said, turning to face him once more.  "It cannot be very often that you get to fight on consecrated grounds, former or not."

 

Kisuke smirked at him.  "You'd be surprised."   

 

Arching an eyebrow, the Quincy stepped off the altar, hands folded behind his back.  There was a soft frown forming on his features, his eyes seizing up his opponent.

 

In the interest of full disclosure, Kisuke decided to answer the unspoken question.  There was no point in concealing his presence any longer, so he allowed the full weight of his newly grown spiritual pressure to spill forth.

 

"Oh?" the Quincy said, lips upturned.  "You've been holding out on me, Soul Reaper.  And here I was, lamenting my luck that such a marvelous stage would be wasted on a weakling.  I am glad.  You are not the only one who has been looking forward to this."     

 

* * *

 

 

**JANUARY 14 TH, 125 B.H.I., THE SECRET TUNNEL, OUTSIDE NAGASAKI, JAPAN – 10:55 AM**

 

Even with her superior feline eyesight at hand, Yoruichi was glad for the presence of a trail to follow.  If the tunnel led to the Quincy hideout as she suspected, its designer had gone to great lengths to deter intruders from finding the exit.  Kisuke's trail betrayed that he, too, had had difficulty navigating around.  More than once, he'd had to double back to a fork and choose a different direction.

 

All sense of time was lost in the absence of sunlight.  Yoruichi could not even begin to estimate how long she had spent in the tunnel, crawling beneath errant roots and past rodents that snuck back into their burrows upon sight of her. 

 

More than the darkness, it was the complete and utter silence that was getting to her.  She should have known, when begging for any kind of auditory distraction, that wishes had a way of being granted in the worst manner possible.  

 

Hers came true when she felt the ground beneath her vibrate, just a split second before the muted sound of a structure collapsing in the distance reached her ears.

 

* * *

 

 

**JANUARY 14 TH, 125 B.H.I., THE ABANDONED CHURCH, OUTSIDE NAGASAKI, JAPAN – 10:45 AM**

 

In those scant few seconds during the eerie, silent beat between repose and activity, the words of an old master came to him, unbidden. 

 

_Movement always begins in the opponent's eyes._

 

Hand hovering over the sheath of Benihime, Kisuke met his enemy's gaze and fell into a vigilant stillness, considering his options.  Close quarters favored melee fighters, yet their arena had been chosen by his opponent; the possibility that the entire construct was rigged with traps was highly likely.  Even the building itself was a hazard on its own, the frail walls likely to crumble under a strong show of force. 

 

A balancing act then, between ending the confrontation as quickly as possible, and holding out until the Quincy was forced to resort to his final, most powerful technique.  Only time could confirm Kisuke's assumption that the father had passed on his teachings to his son.  Not to mention Kisuke's conviction that he would succeed where Captain Arima had failed.

 

Whichever the case, dictating his own terms in this battle was imperative.

 

In a Flash, Kisuke had drawn Benihime and closed the distance, but the arc of his sword met with no resistance.  The Quincy had already rematerialized a short distance away, his bow conjured up and drawn.  Kisuke sensed the familiar shift in the enemy's spiritual structure.  The movement of the particles within his bloodstream, steeling his veins with a protective sheen that made a Quincy's flesh near-impenetrable.  It was an unorthodox choice for a man about to attack, when he could have chosen to reinforce his offense, but quite telling of the initial balance of power: the Quincy was on the defensive.

 

Kisuke dove out of the way, tumbling behind a row of benches as a volley of arrows scraped the ground his feet had occupied a second ago.  Coming out of his roll he sprang up, cutting a fierce scarlet arc in the air with a swing of Benihime.  As Kisuke had known through years of observation, his opponent was fast; dodging the blow was an easy enough task.  In the cloud of dust and debris that followed the failed attack, the Quincy Flashed behind a column, the spiritual particles within him collapsing to fortify his incoming shot.

 

He had but a second to marvel at the Quincy's speed and his wisdom to shift between defense and offense behind cover, before the arrow came blazing at him.  Kisuke leapt back, a shield blooming out of Benihime's blade.  It held under the strain of the deflected arrow, and the bite of blue light cut through the benches on Kisuke's right in a shower of splinters. 

 

He was still mid-air when a second wave of attack struck the shield. It was so inconsequential, that in the second between the four miniscule metal tubes making contact and the following incantation, he was caught off guard.

 

"Renze forumeru venti gral – Heizen!"    

 

A silver, rectangular beam of energy materialized around the space formed by the four tossed casings, gouging out a path through the shield.  It missed Kisuke's right bicep by the merest fraction; if he hadn't already been twisting himself into a landing, he would have likely lost the arm.  He did not, however, escape the blow completely unscathed.  His touchdown wasn't graceful, but he paid no mind to his throbbing shoulder and bleeding hand.  The most pressing matter was that the blow had forced him to drop Benihime.

 

Ha could only spare a swift glance to see that she was still in one piece, before he leapt out of the way of a flurry of arrows. He fell into a Flash Step, eager to gain some distance and reassess the situation, try to retrieve Benihime, but in a display of near-prophetic perception, the Quincy kept firing arrow after arrow only a split second after Kisuke's foot had touched the floor.  

 

The mosaic on the floor had been gouged to unrecognition when Kisuke decided he'd had enough of this cat-and-mouse game.  He was stuck playing by the Quincy's rules, and if he didn't manage to turn the tables soon enough, it was game over.  His body had already been taxed enough by Benihime's trial, and he hadn't had the time to fully recover his strength.  The only way out of this predicament involved taking a risk, but the consequences paled in comparison to the alternative. 

 

He Flash Stepped behind a pillar and, as he'd hoped, instead of blasting it apart, the Quincy jumped on his trail instead, trying to get a clear shot that wouldn't completely demolish the building.  The boy was fast enough to keep up as Kisuke Flashed from pillar to pillar, once even managing a shot that whistled right past him and scraped the stone column.  The smell of burning hair didn't reach Kisuke's nostrils until he'd already Flash Stepped away.  Channeling as much power as he could afford behind his next Flash Step, Kisuke pushed himself to move faster than he'd so far allowed.  In the small window of opportunity he created for himself, he left behind a clone, moving instantly into another Flash Step. 

 

The distraction worked only momentarily, but it was long enough.  The Quincy's arrow flew straight through the clone's forehead, and the physical body dissolved into thin air.  The young man's face had just begun to contort into surprise when Kisuke's true body materialized before him.  Kisuke felt the shift as the Quincy hurried to switch into defensive mode once again, but it was too late.  The kick connected with his face, sending him skidding down the floor.  

 

Losing no time, Kisuke held his sword arm to the side and cried out.  "Bakudō number four, Hainawa!"

 

A shock of yellow erupted out of his hand, the long tendril of energy zooming straight for Benihime.  It wrapped itself around her hilt and Kisuke gave the beam a sharp tug.  Recovering from the blow, the Quincy was beginning to rise back up on his feet as Benihime sailed through the air toward Kisuke. 

 

The second he felt her warmth beneath his fingertips, he held her out, channeling a generous amount of power through the blade.  The resulting spell wasn't as fast as its simpler Hadō counterpart, but what it lacked in swiftness, it made up for in raw power, using the Soul Cutter as a catalyst.  The modified, red Byakurai shot through the air and found its target.  Kisuke's intuition proved to be correct: the Quincy chose to waste time switching to defense, rather than lose his current, advantageous position.  What Kisuke hadn't counted on –and by the looks of it neither had the Quincy- was that the spell would manage to break through his defense; he had only been going for a blow that would throw the Quincy's aim off balance.  And yet the strangled cry that cut through the air when the beam of light pierced through the Quincy's right shoulder said otherwise.

 

Kisuke had no way of knowing if the successful blow was the result of his own growth in power, the Quincy's inexperience, or the last-second shift from offense to defense.  It was likely a combination of all three factors, but the reason mattered little in the face of the confirmation that penetrating the Quincy's defense was within his power.

 

Realizing the cost of his miscalculation, the Quincy retaliated by switching to offense, firing a salvo of arrows at once.  With nothing but a row of columns between him and the walls, Kisuke took the calculated risk not to dodge.  Given their escalating attacks, it was only a matter of time before the structural integrity of the decaying shrine was pushed to its limits.  Countering with another shield was usually the safest bet, but Chikasumi no Tate's greatest flaw in enclosed spaces was that the ricocheting arrows could prove to be just as troublesome as the original attack, if not even more so.  And the Quincy had just made the mistake of recreating the same attack for the third time in his presence.

 

"Tsuppane, Benihime!" 

 

All ten gleaming arrows came to a halt across Benihime's tip.  The air vibrated with the ripple that rose out of the two opposing forces meeting point blank.  The windows on the walls rattled violently, and Kisuke rolled out of the way as red and blue glass rained down upon him. 

 

Eager though he was to get under cover, Kisuke couldn't help but notice that his opponent didn't immediately go for a counter-attack.  Blood gushing out of the gaping hole on his shoulder, the Quincy panted, switching into defense, and sought shelter in the shade of the rightmost pillar.  In the moment it took for Kisuke to dive behind what remained of the shattered benches, he saw that the trail of blood had not followed the Quincy all the way to his hiding place.  

 

With a wound of this severity, it was impossible to stop the flow without resorting to first aid methods.   _Is this an ability of his barrier?_   If he had chosen to employ it at a time when he should have been focusing on relentless attacks, it could only mean that it also served as a stopper to profuse blood loss.  Quincy were not spellcasters by nature.  They relied on reagents and artifacts as aids in focusing and channeling their powers.  As such, their self-healing capabilities were limited, to downright nonexistent in Kisuke's experience.  It made sense that they would have developed methods to at least circumvent the effects of damage sustained during combat.

 

If he was correct in his deduction, pushing the Quincy to switch to offense was the most prudent strategy.  Playing it safe was no longer an option.

 

_Let's flush him out._

"Nake, Benihime!"

 

The blast of energy sheared through the air, cutting through the two pillars supporting the rightmost corner of the second floor.  There was a loud groan, the balcony above quaking as the two columns began to crumble, bringing down half the floor in their wake.  The Quincy was made to abandon his chosen hiding spot, but the moment he did, Kisuke was ready for him.

 

Free palm against the flat of his blade, Kisuke held his arms out.  "Hadō number fifty seven, Daichi Tenyō!"

 

The broken down benches rose as one at his command, hovering in mid-air.  With a signal, a veritable mound of debris shot across the room toward his enemy.  The Quincy unleashed a barrage of arrows in a single blow, and through the dust and splinters, Kisuke emerged, slashing Benihime down in a vicious arc from the Quincy's left shoulder to his chest.

 

The Quincy had no time to fire a second shot; Benihime cut through muscle and tendons, but before Kisuke could drive her in deeper, the Quincy took a step back and reached for his weapon belt.  A flash of blue, and Benihime's blade met with unexpected resistance.  Taking advantage of his momentum, Kisuke pressed down with all his might, eyes travelling down to his opponent's left hand.  The Quincy held one of the slim blades he had been carrying, a surge of blue light emerging out of the metallic hilt.  The boy's left arm shook under the strain on the clash, but with his right shoulder so heavily damaged, he'd had no choice but to engage his non-dominant arm.

 

Their eyes met as Kisuke gave him no inch, keeping Benihime steady and ignoring the throbbing pain from his injured hand.  There was a shift in the boy's eyes, an expression Kisuke understood to be one of determination, even though the odds were currently stacked against him.  The Quincy's amber eyes flitted toward the half-demolished balcony behind him, and with a flick of his wrist, the blade of light disintegrated into nothing.  The metallic hilt fell down on the floor with a clang, but instead of moving into an attack, the Quincy leapt backwards, coming into a neat landing on top of the remains of the balcony above.

 

A spell was forming at the tip of Kisuke's tongue, but he fell into silence as a blue glow enveloped the Quincy's form, tendrils of his spiritual energy emerging out of his limbs and weaving into one another.  The boy's shoulders squared up, his right, heavily damaged arm no longer hanging down limp by his side.  The net of spiritual energy that had formed around the Quincy seemed to be supporting him, like a puppet being held up by its strings.    

 

"Well played, Soul Reaper," the Quincy said, as the net faded from sight.  "I had a feeling that  _this **—**_ " He raised his right hand up, fingers curling around the odd spike on his glove.  " ** _—_** is what you came for." With a snap, he detached the spike.

 

And then the world exploded in white.

 

The sheer force of the shock wave nearly knocked Kisuke off his feet.  Shielding his eyes against the gust of wind, Kisuke struggled to stay upright, while a hurricane of white enveloped the Quincy, shattering the roof of the building.  Natural light surged in through the crack, and Kisuke could feel the boy's spiritual pressure grow exponentially within seconds.  As the dust settled, the spinning wisps of energy slowing down, Kisuke was finally able to get a clear visual of his opponent.

 

At first, he thought it must've been a trick of the light.  Bathed in a bright white haze, the boy looked down on him from above, a pair of what could only be described as wings looming behind his back.  Vibrant and pristine, they flowed in the breeze, humming with a quiet, ominous power.

 

Though Quincy always fought by engaging spiritual particles from the air and their surroundings, the boy was now drawing them in at an alarmingly fast rate.  Piece by piece, the particles flowed into his spread wings, feeding into the Quincy's constantly growing power.  There was an odd sensation at the pit of Kisuke's stomach, as if his very essence was being drawn in by a whirlpool.

 

If this was the extent of the boy's skill, Kisuke shuddered to think what his father had been capable of, of how the witness had reported his own clothes being forcibly rent by the mere act of being near the target.  Was this the last thing Captain Arima had seen?  An angel of vengeance threatening to tear her very soul apart?  What heights could this kind of power reach in a setting made completely out of spiritual particles, like Soul Society or Hueco Mundo?

 

Kisuke had little time to bask in the glow of his confirmed theory.  If the boy's growth in power had been impressive, it was nothing compared to the enhancement in his speed as he pulled his bowstring back and fired a massive arrow.  Without a century's practice opposite the fastest person he knew, Kisuke would have already been dead like Captain Arima.  As it was, all he could do was dodge the devastating arrow that flew toward him. 

 

In its wake, the blue beam shattered the double doors of the entrance, taking out a large portion of the threshold and the floor.  Anything else that might have found itself in the arrow's path outside the building would've surely been disintegrated at once.

 

The Quincy Flash Stepped out of sight, and it was more intuition than anything that made Kisuke shift his gaze up toward the ceiling.  A second arrow, already half-formed and even more overwhelming than its earlier counterpart was pulsing at the Quincy's fingertips, but Kisuke was prepared.

 

Index and middle finger held out, he cried, "Bakudō number one, Sai!"

 

The arrow fizzled out, the Quincy's arms forcibly locked behind his back.

 

**_"That will barely—"_ **

_Hold him?  I know.  No spell I can cast will take while he's in this form._   "Bakudō number sixty one, Rikujōkōrō!"   _But I don't need more than a few seconds._

 

A shudder passed through Benihime as she understood the full meaning behind his words.  He had never before felt her pulsate so strongly beneath his touch, her thirst to be released insatiable.  For once, they were perfectly in tune.

 

The six-rod prison burned bright against the Quincy's midsection, yet there was nothing but satisfaction written on his features.  " _Do_  pay attention, Soul Reaper," he said, lips stretched out in a smirk as the bakudō disintegrated around him, every single particle flying straight into his wings, reinforcing them.  "There is  _nothing_  you can use against me that I will not absorb."

 

_That's what I'm counting on._

 

With a smirk of his own, Kisuke held out his blade.  "Well… you've certainly upped the ante," Kisuke said.  "I suppose it would be rude of me not to reciprocate." 

 

**_"Are you ready?"_ **

 

"Bankai.  Koremochi no Akumu."

 

* * *

 

 

**JANUARY 14 TH, 125 B.H.I., THE SECRET TUNNEL, OUTSIDE NAGASAKI, JAPAN – 11:10 AM**

 

Cursing, Yoruichi doubled back, reprimanding herself for allowing stress to cloud her senses.  If she had kept her cool, she would have read the trail correctly, she would have seen that she had been headed toward a dead-end.

 

_Calm down, calm **down**.  It might have been nothing, it could just—_

The sound of a blood-curdling scream put an end to her train of thought, and just like that, the battle to stay calm was lost.

 

History had a dreadful way of repeating itself, and Yoruichi was reminded of another cold winter, in another human city, when it had taken all of one second for her world to crumble.

 

She pushed herself to run like she had never run before, struggling to close a distance that only seemed to stretch longer as she felt it, Kisuke's soul, standing on the precipice of obliteration.

  

* * *

 

 

**JANUARY 14 TH, 125 B.H.I., THE ABANDONED CHURCH, OUTSIDE NAGASAKI, JAPAN – 11:05 AM**

  

"Bankai.  Koremochi no Akumu."

 

He saw it, in his mind's eye, the maple standing tall.  The leaves glowed a vivid crimson, a blinding light enveloping the tree.  It shone like a beacon in the dark, brighter and brighter, until the light had chased away every morsel of black, crept into every single crevice of his world, expanding in a glorious eruption. 

 

And he was there, in the midst of it all, his veins on fire, every single cell of him singing with pure, unadulterated power.  The light flowed throughout him, from the tips of his fingers to the cleft in his chest where it converged, nestling around his heart and steeling it.

 

When his eyes slipped open, all he could see was crimson.

 

It was a strange sight, Benihime's blade covered with a thin sheen of crimson, the same film of energy that surrounded him from head to toe.  It hummed with a quiet, nearly imperceptible trill, like the steady flow of a stream, in stark contrast to the roaring torrent that was laying siege to his insides.

 

The Quincy seemed to agree.  "You disappoint me, Soul Reaper," he said, as the bow in his hands pulsed with barely restrained power.  "The tales my people hear of your kind would have us all believe that Bankai should have us running for the hills.  No rain of fire?  No summoning thunder from the skies themselves?"

 

Kisuke could only chuckle, gazing at Benihime.  "I'm afraid you've had the bad luck of running into a Soul Reaper with a decidedly boring Bankai," he said.  "I do wish it were half as flashy as your technique.  As it is now, it doesn't make much of a visual impact, does it?"

 

Kisuke could only imagine the truly unimpressive sight he must've made, an inverse mirror of his opponent in every single way, as the young Quincy's power reached its peak, rivaling those of any Captain's the Thirteen Divisions.

 

There was a glimmer of pity in the Quincy's eyes along with his disappointment, as the near-gravitational pull of his power tore apart the sheen of crimson enveloping Kisuke, claiming every particle as his own.  When he pulled his bowstring back, it almost seemed like an act of mercy.  "Sorry, I cannot afford to be sportsmanlike," he said, the arrow starting to form between his hands.  "Goodbye, Soul Reaper."

 

Kisuke made a show of readying himself, Benihime held out before him.  He wondered if the Quincy could feel it yet, the change, spreading like a virus within him, sinking its claws in, a stain he would never be rid of.

 

The arrow blazed bright, but Kisuke knew, he could  _see_  the flow about to draw back, the particles spinning out of control, no longer under the boy's command.  It wasn't until the arrow left his grasp that the Quincy seemed to understand something was wrong.  The powerful arrow he had meant to fire had inexplicably transformed into a feeble beam of light, one Kisuke had no trouble deflecting with a careless wave of Benihime.

 

Shock was all that registered in the boy's amber eyes, but he was battle-hardened enough not to let it faze him entirely.  With a Flash, he relocated back to the favorable position of the second floor.  This time, when he tried to summon the power to form an arrow, the particles refused to bend to his will, nothing but sparks of blue escaping his fingertips.

 

Kisuke let Benihime drop to the side, the tip of her blade scraping the mosaic on the floor as he sauntered forward, eyes trained on the boy.  "You seem to have reached your peak," he said.  "Your spiritual pressure isn't increasing anymore.  How long can you hold that form?"

 

The Quincy's jaw clenched in determination, his eyes shining with rage, and he was finally able to wrest some measure of control over his power.  "Long enough!" With a bellow, he let the arrow fly, and Kisuke could see that the boy had lucked into a strong flow.

 

Buoyed by the palpable shot that left a sizeable crater on the floor, the Quincy wasn't deterred when Kisuke dodged.  He readied himself for a volley of arrows, only to find them fizzling between his fingers, refusing to take shape.  Panting, he glared down at the smirking face of his opponent, realization finally dawning on him.  "The power to render an opponent's spiritual power unstable… I've never seen the likes of it before," he said.  "You don't fail to entertain, Soul Reaper; I'll give you that.  I have chosen well."

 

Kisuke couldn't help the disparaging expression that spread on his features just then.  "You think this is something that has been inflicted on  _you_?" he said, slowly closing the distance between them.

 

A knot appeared on the Quincy's brow, and he hurried to force another arrow into shape, with only moderate success.

 

Kisuke didn't even bother to dodge this time around, merely flicking his head to the side as the weak arrow whistled past his ear, barely making a dent on the floor.  "Control is a fickle thing, isn't it?" he said, his measured steps in sync with the boy's heaving breath.  "Slips right through your fingers like a wisp of smoke just when you think you have a grasp on it." 

 

Holding one hand out, Kisuke formed a sphere of crimson energy over his palm, but the shape began to crumble instantly.  It hissed and spitted particles, a volatile ball of raw power, ever-shifting and unstable.

 

"You made the mistake of absorbing my own power," Kisuke said.  "The only difference between you and I, is that I have fought for control my whole life.  And it has all led me to one, simple realization: true control is unattainable," he said, holding his hand out, the sphere still pulsing erratically.  The energy in his hand burned with scorching heat, particles spinning about like birds scattered in flight, but he could feel it, the flow, slowly coming together.  "Sometimes, it is best to just… let go."  It gathered strength, the particles about to form into a unified stream again right…   _Now._  

 

Kisuke spread his palm and the sphere collapsed, the humble bundle of energy bursting forth with more power and speed than any spell he had ever before unleashed.  The Quincy never had time to move a muscle as the gust of brute force washed over him like a tsunami. 

 

"You see, my unfortunate friend," Kisuke said, as the boy emerged beneath a dissolving haze of crimson, dazed and singed despite managing to engage his defense.  "You didn't choose me.   _I_  chose  _you_."

 

_Let's go, Benihime._

 

His toes stretched against the floor, weight resting on the pad of his foot as he transported himself forward with speed that would have made even Yoruichi reel, Benihime's laughter echoing through every corner of his body.  He was there in a fraction of an instant.  A flash of silver, and flecks of red rose to meet the motes of dust that danced between them, the boy's pupils dilating in astonishment.

 

The Quincy lashed out blindly in reflex, and Kisuke vaulted backwards, blood washing cleanly off Benihime's blade as he spun down toward the floor below, landing in a soft thud.  The boy clutched at the gash in the middle of his sternum, sweat trickling down his brow, his breath coming out in gasps.

 

It was Kisuke's turn to feel the burn of disappointment as he gazed upon the young Quincy's quivering form, the look in the boy's eyes one of terror.  Was this the extent of his power?  Was  _this_  all he had trained for, all he had risked his relationship with Benihime for?  Was this all the boy had to reveal of his clan's mysterious powers? 

 

With a sharp flick, Kisuke shook the last few vestiges of the Quincy's blood off Benihime, and stared up at the boy earnestly.  "Surrender now, and I will try to negotiate for your life," he said.

 

It seemed to be the wrong thing to say, or rather the right one, as the remark reignited the fire in the Quincy's eyes, all pain and exhaustion now forgotten.  Jaw clenched, the boy hobbled forward to the edge of the half-destroyed balcony, staring down at him with pure hatred.  "I would suffer to my last breath before I would surrender to  _you_  and your  _ilk_ ," he said, then spat at the floor before him.  "And if I am to die here, now, am I dragging you down to Hell with me."  And with those words, the Quincy shot an arrow through the crack on the ceiling, seemingly at nothing.

 

A shudder passed through Kisuke, one that had nothing to do with the boy's threat.  The temperature in the dilapidated building dropped dramatically and his senses were assaulted with the sudden appearance of tens, dozens of spiritual signatures, the flickering essences of Plus spirits oscillating beneath the ground.  The spirits moved in sync, rising out of the floor, floating straight toward the Quincy.  Like an army poised to march, they turned as one, twenty, forty, close to a hundred spirits all clad in white, joining the boy in staring down at him through haunted eyes.

 

The souls of the fallen Quincy.

 

Lips parted, Kisuke's fingers involuntarily clenched around the hilt of Benihime. 

 

The spirits swayed on the spot, surrounding the Quincy, their Chains of Fate clinking gently, breaking the tense silence in the hall.  Most of the spirits bore long chains, evidence of their recent demise, and Kisuke could see familiar faces among them, faces of the men and women he had killed.  Some, however, bore chains that had nearly eroded, now barely stubs hanging before their chests.  They must have been waiting for this moment for years, perhaps even decades.

 

He had been wrong, after all; it wasn't the building itself that had been rigged, but the very ground beneath it.

 

Much like the boy, Kisuke himself was reaching his limit, his own control over his power slipping as it continued to rage within him, growing more and more uncontrollable.  His heart contracted painfully, the strain of the last few days catching up with him.   _Not yet, not yet.  I need to see this, I need to **know**._

 

"By the pride of the Quincy," the boy said.  "We swear we will not allow you to walk from this place."

 

As one, the souls closed their eyes, their lips forming serene, identical smiles as their essences began to break down, absorbed by the young Quincy's power. 

 

Kisuke watched in shock, horrified by the knowledge that part of him was glad to have spared the boy so far, to have held out long enough to witness this, this act of sacrilege he would have never even thought possible.

 

The voice that came out of him spoke words he only half-believed, but words he knew he was  _supposed_  to be saying.  "I wished to fight  _you_ ," Kisuke said.  "Not echoes of the past.  They deserve their peace."

 

"Peace?" the boy said with a scoff.  "You think there was anything but torment in their future if they had been laid to rest?  You think there is a  _single_   _one_  of us out there who would not give their life, their  _soul_  to this cause?  Our pride as Quincy demands that we fight till our bones shatter, till our last breath and beyond, if necessary.  We are treading upon the tombs of martyrs.  And there is not a single soul in this room who would not gladly forgo the afterlife to see you and yours brought to justice, Soul Reaper."

 

Like a warm caress, Benihime's breath curled around his ear. 

 

**_"Can you feel it, Kisuke?  The weakness in him, the fear?  He has no recourse, no future, lashing out in desperation.  His companions may be ready to give their existence to his cause, but he is not.  He would not have dared disturb the dead otherwise.  He is afraid.  Of pain, of loss, of defeat… And that is why he will lose and we will prevail."_ **

 

The boy had reached his peak long ago, his spiritual power now waning rapidly.  Benihime was right: this was a desperate attempt to end this in one blow, in a single show of massive force, but with Kisuke's own power flowing through him, infecting him, the boy was unwittingly working toward ending his own life instead of preserving it.

 

And as much as he had yearned for this fight, Kisuke did not wish to witness it end in such a way.

 

"Stop this," he said, his own chest growing heavy and painful with the overflowing force within him that fought to be set free.  "You don't understand what you're doing; you will  _never_  be able to control it."

 

Undeterred, the boy drew upon every last morsel of energy, his wings spread broad across his shoulders, the white light emanating off him illuminating every corner of the hall.  The boy's lips twitched into a smirk, and he disappeared from sight, Flashing down on the ground floor, the arrow leaving his bow before his feet had even touched the floor.

 

Kisuke rolled away from the rampant beam of blue light that sped his way, his body not swift enough to escape entirely unscathed.  Grunting, he limped up to full height, weight resting on his right leg.  His left foot had been burnt to a crisp, the scorched muscles twitching as the skin throbbed in time with his pulse.     

 

Sensing his massive reserves of power were evaporating away fast, the Quincy readied himself for one last, powerful shot, but the energy refused to mold into shape between his fingers, crackling about his forearms like bolts of lightning.  The boy grit his teeth, fighting through the pain of his spiritual matter spinning completely out of control, but his own body was beginning to betray him, the muscles in his limbs succumbing to incessant spasms.

 

_Enough, enough now.  He is done.  And so am I._

 

**_"You will allow him to live after this?  After mistreating the dead, perverting them beyond imagination?"_ **

 

Panting, Kisuke thrust his will into his blade, ordering Benihime to seal herself.  The so far still film of crimson surrounding him began to ripple, tendrils of energy growing volatile.  He had reached the limit of his control over the incontrollable, his own soul screaming with the strain of struggling to hold itself in one piece.   _He didn't know what he was doing; he was desperate.  He is merely a boy—_

 

 **_"Do not be naïve; this_ ** **boy _would have slaughtered you without remorse—"_**

 

Kisuke pushed back against Benihime's resistance, forcing her into submission.   _Benihime, enough.  He will be powerless soon, he should not pay such a dire price for a mistake made in desperation.  He didn't know, he couldn't see—_

**_"Every action has its consequences.  As he is about to discover."_ **

 

The boy's bow dissolved completely, his eyes bulging out as he clutched at his chest.  He tried to speak, but his voice was choked under the weight of the overpowering force breaking through his barriers, flooding his every cell.

 

_Benihime, stop!  He didn't know!  He didn't—_

**_"Do not allow your softness to cloud your judgment.  He_ ** **should _have known."_**

 

 _NO!  STOP THIS.  HE DIDN'T KNOW, BEHINIME, HE DIDN'TKNOWHE DIDN'T— Stop.  I can't…_  Fingers digging into his own chest, Kisuke opened his mouth to cry out, but no sound escaped his lips.   ** _STOP_** _.  I DIDN'T… I DIDN'T KNOWIDIDN'TKNOW **PLEASE**  I DIDN'T—_

 

**_"Shhh… Do not fear.  I will make it quick."_ **

 

_BEHINIME—_

 

With a guttural scream that made Kisuke's very bones ache, the boy convulsed once in place, a mute, invisible eruption taking place within him, as his soul was stretched beyond its limits.  His eyes rolled back, and in a second that seemed to stretch to eternity, nothing happened.  The boy remained upright, as though suspended by invisible strings, and then his body lost any measure of structure.

 

Kisuke shut his eyes in reflex, the spray of blood warm against his face.

 

When his eyes slipped open, all he could see was crimson, the specks of blood indistinguishable from his own pulsating spiritual power.

 

The fire within him subsided, the pressure in his chest lessening as Benihime fell into submission.  

 

**_"I would never have allowed you to get hurt."_ **

 

Falling down on his knees, Kisuke felt his head roll back, his entire body shaking.  High up on the wall across him, the eyes of the foreign god on the mural met his, streaks of red running down between his stern, black eyes.  

 

The war was over and the gods had turned their gazes back on society, ready to pass judgment on the smoking remains.

 

* * *

 

 

**JANUARY 14 TH, 125 B.H.I., THE ABANDONED CHURCH, OUTSIDE NAGASAKI, JAPAN – 11:15 AM**

 

The pads of her paws scraped against soil and stone as she hurried up the paved path.  Her body moved of its own accord long after her mind had registered the fact that of the two spiritual signatures in the vicinity, one had disappeared from existence.

 

_Not Kisuke's, not Kisuke'snotKisuke's…_

 

Breath caught in her lungs, Yoruichi came to a stop at the top of the slope, her eyes zeroing in on the body stumbling out of the building.  At the sight of his bloodstained hair and clothes, her feline form slipped away, her human feet now skidding across the hard ground without care as she sprinted forward.

 

Kisuke's faltering legs gave out, his knees hitting grass.  He didn't appear to have sensed her presence, not until she was kneeling before him, hands fisted in his shirt to force him to meet her eye.

 

"Are you hurt?"

 

His vacant expression lingered on as he stared at her, unseeing, a gentle knot on his forehead.  When his eyes focused, his frown deepened, his slack lips moving soundlessly for a few seconds before his voice came out.  "You're here."

 

Pursing her mouth, Yoruichi reached out to grasp his arms, fingernails digging into his flesh.  "Kisuke, are you  _okay_?"

 

His shoulders sagged at the question.  "Not my blood," he said.

 

For the first time since he had gone missing, Yoruichi felt herself breathe easier.  As her drumming heart slowed down, she dropped her hands, taking in her surroundings.  The building Kisuke had only just exited had clearly seen better days, and if it hadn't been for the lingering presence of spiritual energy, as well as the commotion she had heard on the way there, Yoruichi might've assumed he had found it in this state. 

 

"What the hell even happened here?" she said.  "Where's—?"

 

"Why are you here?"  There was no rancor or any emotion other than pure bewilderment coloring his words.

 

"Long story," Yoruichi said dismissively.  "The Onmitsukidō got involved, and I—"  _Couldn't stay behind, powerless._   "I got your note.  It was… brief."  It was the least weighted word she could think of.   _Vague_ ,  _frustrating_ , both were far more fitting descriptions, but giving him hell for leaving her behind could wait.  

 

Kisuke tore his gaze away from hers, dropping his weight on his ankles and slipping down to a sitting position on the grass.  He said nothing, seemingly undisturbed by the rivulets of blood that trickled past his nose and down his jaw, like scarlet tears.  

 

In all the years she had known him, he had never looked so utterly defeated, not even on the day of his mother's funeral.  The Quincy was dead, she could feel it, and Kisuke was unharmed.  By all rights, this should be a moment of triumph.

 

_What on earth happened to him?_

 

"We should... I'll go retrieve the body," she said, curiosity eating at her to see what had caused the mayhem inside the building.  "The Divisions will probably—"

 

His hand shot out before she could rise on her feet, grasping her wrist and holding her in place.  He still refused to meet her gaze.  "Don't go in there."

 

"Kisu—"

 

" _Please._ " His voice was brittle, barely above a whisper, the fingers clenching around her wrist like a vise.  "Please don't.  I'm begging you."

 

"I— All right."  Kneeling down on the grass again, Yoruichi stared at his trembling jaw, willing him to at least look at her, to say  _something_.

 

Kisuke nodded absently, letting go of her wrist.  "Did I... Did I hurt—?"

 

"I'm fine."

 

He fell quiet once more, his eyes turning vacant again.  When he spoke next, it felt like the silence had stretched on for hours.  "You were right."

 

"About what?"

 

"It was too soon." 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, we come to the end of the first arc (I consider all chapters up to the academy to be the prologue), in which our two protagonists have struggled to find their identity. Unofficially, the entire sequence of chapters from the start of the academy to this are meant to be Kisuke's arc, as it's where we witness the necessary fall of the character, in order to later on witness him build himself back up to who we know as canon Kisuke. Again, unofficially, the sequence of chapters that will follow in the future is dedicated to Yoruichi's development in a similar manner.
> 
> I hope people didn't take offense at the fact that the final showdown took place in a –albeit not formal- church. Kisuke himself makes a quip about it not being his first time fighting on consecrated grounds, after all. The point here was to have an absolute clash of cultures: Soul Reaper against Quincy, dark versus white, a technique with clear angelic symbolism against a visceral one. The fact that an earthly religion is so very foreign to Kisuke only works to reinforce the divide.
> 
> So… yeah. This is my bankai headcanon for Kisuke. I decided to use the Japanese version of the name, seeing as every other technique I've mentioned so far has followed that motif. In English, the bankai activation phrase means Koremochi's Nightmare. Generally speaking, I detest the whole 'Let me explain my powers in detail, dear enemy,' trope in manga/anime. I understand why it is needed in a medium where internal dialogue is limited and narration usually non-existent, but a written story can bypass the need for this almost entirely. Even so, there's a big, big analysis on tumblr with a full explanation, and an extra entry on separate chapter notes. 
> 
> Thank you all very much for the wonderful comments you left on the previous chapter. I'm sorry to start the year with such a downer, but take heart in the familiar old adage: it's always darkest before the dawn.
> 
> I wanted to have this out on the 31st in time for their birthday, but alas, food and wine and guests distracted me from my goal. I hope everyone had a great holiday so far, and I wish you all a Happy New Year! Let me know what you thought of the chapter; give me something to think about over the next few weeks :)


	13. The weight of the world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL. UM. WOW. A lot has happened in the manga since I last updated, and I'm sure many of you were wondering what this means for the story, whether I'm going to be retconing or not. 
> 
> I'll just go ahead and say here that Kisuke's bankai is not changing; I got close enough by guessing it would be reishi manipulation, but I've always known my execution couldn't have been identical, or even close to Kubo's (which was spectacular btw, I was so happy with it). For everything else, the short answer is yes to things that don't mess up my story, no to things that do. For a more detailed explanation, look to my chapter notes.
> 
> Speaking of chapter notes, I have given my tumblr a bit of a clean-up, so from now on, chapter notes can be found under the 'Pages' option in the nav menu.
> 
> My apologies for the long delay in updating. I was very busy with academic matters, and then it took me about a month extra to get over the worst block I've ever experienced. Still not entirely pleased with the chapter, but I can't sit on it any longer or it'll drive me mad. I hope it doesn't disappoint. 
> 
> Cultural notes:
> 
> Shihakushō: The black robes Shinigami wear. 
> 
> Nikujaga (lit. meat-potatoes): A winter dish made with meat, potatoes, onions and assorted vegetables. Your basic stew, but with a Japanese touch, since it's cooked in soy sauce.

 

**JUNE 3 RD, 1956 A.D., URAHARA SHOP, KARAKURA TOWN, JAPAN **

 

"Well?"

 

Parting the top of the paper container with care, Kisuke took a deep breath in and closed his eyes, letting out a soft moan of pleasure.  "Ohhh my…"

 

Her latest exploits from the journey to Indonesia recounted, they had moved on to opening the presents she had sent over weeks ago.  It was part of their post-traveling ritual: enjoying a meal together while she regaled him and Tessai with new stories, then moving on to the gift unwrapping.  Given her Spartan way of travel, lugging around souvenirs until her return was impossible.  And yet she had always loved seeing their expressions upon opening their respective presents.  

As such, following her first return home, she had instituted a rule that no gift unwrapping was allowed without her presence.  She had no doubt Tessai had never broken said rule, just as she had no doubt Kisuke had broken it repeatedly.  Nevertheless, his reactions were always believable enough.

 

"It's from Java," Yoruichi said, grinning at him. 

 

Looking up from the package of deluxe Javanese coffee, Kisuke gave her a beaming smile.  "It smells positively divine.  Thank you very much, Yoruichi."

 

"I bet it's even better than that Ceylonese variety you're so fond of," she said.  Catering to Kisuke's coffee addiction was perhaps not the best of ideas, but his insufferable mood post caffeine crash was the stuff of legends.  The very least she could do was make certain he didn't complain about the quality of the beans.

 

"Ah, well… You know what they say about your first love," he said, his eyes taking on a mischievous glint. 

 

Yoruichi gave him her most disparaging eye-roll, then prompted Tessai to open his own gift.  While he busied himself with the wrapping, she caught Kisuke's eye again, just in time to catch him winking at her.

 

Looking away at once, lest the situation get completely out of hand, she cleared her throat and turned to Tessai.  "It's a  _topeng_ ," she said, as Tessai peeled the last of the paper away, revealing a glossy mask.  It depicted a grinning, mustachioed man wearing an elaborate circlet.  "Theater performers in Bali wear them, and there are a number of standard varieties.  This one here is called a  _Topeng Manis,_  and it's meant to represent a refined hero."

 

Tessai almost dropped the mask in shock, his quivering mouth gaping open.  "L-Lady Yoruichi…  What a marvelous, thoughtful gift!" he said, voice quivering with emotion.  "I am  _ever_  so humbled by your generosity."

 

As she waved off Tessai's ardent declarations of being unworthy of such a gift, Yoruichi caught Kisuke in her peripheral vision.  He was staring from his gift to Tessai's and back again.  "Something to say, Kisuke?" she asked, lips stretching into a smirk.

 

"No, no!  Of course not," he said, chuckling.  "One of us gets gifted with coffee, the other receives a piece of traditional art... One could very well argue such refined coffee beans represent the pinnacle of culinary achievement, an art all of its own."

 

"I  _did_  consider getting you a mask as well," she said.  "But they were all out of  _Topeng Keras Bues_."

 

"Another archetypal figure, I assume?"

 

"Mmmm-hhhm."

 

"……Of?  A dashing hero?  Bit of a rogue?  Someone popular enough that stock ran out?"

 

"Oh, it's popular all right," she said.  "He's the comedy relief."

 

The ring of the customer doorbell barely registered over her gales of laughter and Tessai's modest chuckling.  Kisuke gingerly placed the coffee package back down on the table.  "I  _had_  to ask," he said in a low mutter, getting up to answer the door.

 

Wiping the tears off her face, Yoruichi let out a sigh and returned to her miso soup.  She took a moment to appreciate the wafts of aroma spiraling up from the bowl before lifting it up to her lips.  Though trying the local cuisine was always the highlight of her trips, nothing ever made her more content than Tessai's signature dish.  It tasted of home, or warmth and laughter, and it was one of the things she always missed the most while traveling.

 

Full belly sloshing pleasantly, Yoruichi lay back against the cushions, stretching.  With the distracting cloud of hunger dispelled, her focus shifted to the newcomer.  "Is that Sentarō?" Yoruichi said, recognizing the familiar spiritual signature.

 

"Ah, so it is!" Tessai said, glancing toward the foyer.  "And not a moment too soon.  We haven't had a delivery in quite a while; the Boss was beginning to worry our connection to Soul Society might have been compromised."

 

"Oh?  How long has it been?"

 

"Nearly two months to the day," Tessai said.

 

For decades now, either Sentarō or Kiyone would visit every month on the dot, depending on who was available.  In those rare occasions neither of them could make it, they always sent word ahead of time without fail.

 

Even with her ear trained toward the foyer, Yoruichi was unable to make out the conversation between Kisuke and the boy.  She did, however, hear the distinct jingle of money exchanging hands, which likely meant their operation remained incognito.  Satisfied that nothing was amiss, she went back to giving Tessai a more thorough cultural background on his gift.

 

It was only when she heard footsteps approaching that she realized Kisuke had been gone for far too long, almost half an hour.  She read the tension in his spiritual pressure long before he appeared beneath the threshold, face ashen, lips pressed into a straight line.

 

"What's wrong?" she said.  Arms planted against the table, she was only barely keeping herself from springing up to her feet.  "What happened?"

 

Kisuke shuffled into the room, hat held in his hands.  He appeared to be struggling to find the words to phrase what ailed him.

 

"Boss?  Does this concern the shop?  Have we—?"

 

"No, no," Kisuke said, shaking his head.  "Everything's fine on that front, no need to worry.  I, ah—" He cleared his throat, eyes resolutely staring at the floor, unseeing.  "Kotsubaki was just explaining why neither he nor Miss Kotetsu could make it earlier.  He apologized profusely, of course, but it's perfectly understandable, given... everything.  He... he informed me…"

 

For the briefest of moments, Kisuke's eyes flitted over to hers before he redirected them elsewhere, anywhere  _but_  her direction, it seemed.  It had lasted a fraction of a second, but she had seen it: the tell-tale pang of guilt.

 

"The Thirteenth Division has been mourning a tremendous loss," Kisuke said.

 

"Oh no… Captain Ukitake?" Yoruichi said.  For as long as she had known him, the Captain had always been of poor health.  His affliction had never been disclosed to anyone, save his closest friends and confidants, one assumed.  Yoruichi had always believed it to be something truly devastating, if it could reduce a man as powerful as the Captain to his current frail state.

 

"No, not… Captain Ukitake," Kisuke said. 

 

A cold, hard feeling took root deep within her.  A sensation she couldn't quite identify, like a child's nameless fear of the dark.  Somehow, Yoruichi knew what she was about to hear before Kisuke spoke the words out loud.  Hands shaking upon the tabletop, she willed the tightness in her throat to subside.  "Kisuke?"

 

With great difficulty, he met her eyes at long last and there was an inexplicable apology written there.  "Lieutenant Shiba and his wife were slain in battle five weeks ago."

 

* * *

 

 

 **J** **ANUARY 15 TH, 125 B.H.I., THE COURTYARD, ONMITSUKIDŌ COMPLEX, COURT OF PURE SOULS – 7:30 A.M.**

 

"Again."

 

Her command was met a round of soft groans.  Individually, they might have gone unnoticed, but in unison, they became loud enough to alert their respective owners to the fact that they had just sealed their fates.

 

"Ohhhh?" Yoruichi said, folding her arms before her chest as she peered down at the six men before her.  Bedraggled and covered in welts they would only  _truly_  feel tomorrow, they all sported similar looks of contrition at her smirk.  "Anyone wish to voice any complaints?"

 

A chorus of "No, First Officer Shihōin," came in response. 

 

"I know you're all exhausted," she said, figuring she might as well offer a modicum of encouragement.  "But you will  _not_  be excused until one of you manages to lay a hand on me.  Stop trying to land the victory blow yourself and start working as a  _unit_."

 

One by one, the six members of her second squad rose up to their feet, preparing themselves for the next round.  Behind them, the members of squad one looked upon with sympathy.  The third squad awaited their own turn in a state of wary resignation.

 

Yoruichi fell into position, her eyes sharp and alert for the first sign of movement.  To her surprise, it didn't come from one of her own squads, but from a member of the Inner Court Division.

 

Materializing beside her, the man fell into low bow at once.  "Apologies for the interruption, First Officer Shihōin," he said.  "Lieutenant Shihōin will be arriving shortly to speak with you."

 

 _Oh what is it_   ** _now_** _?_   Straightening up, Yoruichi dismissed the man with a curt nod, then turned to her team.  "At ease, everyone," she said.  "Take a few minutes to rest and hydrate, we will resume momentarily."

 

The towel and cup of water were in her grasp the second she extended a waiting hand.  Yoruichi dabbed her forehead and downed the cup with greed, the weight of the previous day heavy on her shoulders.  Unfortunately, she'd had no choice but to show up for duty today pretending to be in top form; for all intents and purposes, she was meant to have spent the last four days on leave, resting.

 

However brief, her visit to Nagasaki had left her both mentally and physically unfit to perform at her best.  She had yet to see Kisuke since their encounter back in the Material World, and what little time they'd had, had been cut even shorter when the Onmitsukidō stormed the scene, forcing her to flee.   In her haste to disappear into the woods where she could release Maya and cast a portal, she had badly sprained her left ankle.  Visiting either the Onmitsukidō infirmary or the Fourth Division had been out of the question.  Considering the circumstances of her last foray into a medical facility, she had the distinct impression no-one would believe her sprain to be a simple training accident. 

 

The incident was a stark wake up call to the fact that she needed to stop relying on Kisuke for healing and start practicing her own kaidō.  If she'd had, she would have been able to fully heal herself and not spend the entire day favorite her right, weaker leg.  The strain alone of trying to hide her injury was already taking its toll.  And she still had one more squad to see through their morning routine.         

 

 _At least my beloved cousin is visiting; **that**  oughta brighten up my day,_ she thought wryly.  Akira was approaching from the other end of the courtyard, weaving through the sea of black-clad men and women.

 

Yoruichi handed the cup and towel back to her assistant for the day, then stepped forward to meet her cousin.  Behind her, she heard all three squads follow her lead into standing at attention.   

 

For someone who had spent the last few hours dealing with whatever fresh bureaucratic hell Kisuke's actions had unleashed, Akira appeared to be in an oddly good mood.  He dismissed the entire patrol with a cool wave of his hand and addressed Yoruichi with an amiable smile.  That alone, was more than enough cause for alarm.

 

"Good morning, First Officer," he said.  "Excuse the interruption, I only require a moment of your time."

 

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

 

"I arrived at my office this morning only to find my inbox in complete disarray," he said.  "I came by to ask you to please resubmit your Friday report at your earliest convenience today."

 

"Was there something wrong—?"

 

"Nothing on your end, I assure you," Akira said.  "I simply want to make certain nothing goes missing when I reorganize my paperwork."

 

Though Akira was nothing if not unfailingly professional in their dealings, he was never familiar with any of his colleagues.  Especially not his subordinates.  Even if his affable air hadn't already raised alarm bells for Yoruichi, the fact that the Lieutenant himself had made the trip to the courtyard to deliver a simple message would have been suspicious enough all on its own.

 

"Understood, sir," Yoruichi said.  "I will have it sent to your desk by afternoon."

 

"Excellent," Akira said, allowing his eyes to wander over to her troops.  A fond, almost longing smile crossed his features at the sight of them.  "You know… I've been so mired in administrative duties lately, I've forgotten how revitalizing a proper workout is for both mind and body.  I confess, I decided to make the rounds personally this morning if only to take the sight in, but now that I'm here, I fear I cannot resist the temptation.  And I just so happen to have some time to spare.  What do you say, cousin?" he said, turning to her.  The pleasant glint in his eyes was even more unnerving that the unnatural smile that graced his lips.  "Will you do me the honor of a friendly spar?"

 

_He **knows**._

 

Yoruichi didn't have the slightest idea how that was possible, but there was little doubt it was true.  He knew she had snuck her way into Nagasaki and he was trying to prove it.  His amiable tone, his use of their familial relationship, the audience... He was making certain she had no recourse but to accept the duel.

 

_Did I leave a footprint behind when I stumbled?  I know for a fact there were no traces of my spiritual signature in the area, I was careful._

 

Realizing there was no point in agonizing over the possibilities, at least not now, Yoruichi schooled her expression into a genial smile and gave Akira a bow.  "It would be my pleasure."  

 

An excited murmur rippled through the small crowd as Akira stepped forward into the center and began to stretch.  Yoruichi joined him, trying to buy some time to calm her nerves.  It was one thing, going up against a squad of only competent Onmitsukidō men.  Fighting Akira while trying to conceal her injury was going be troublesome.

 

As they both stood in place across opposite ends, Yoruichi met his onyx eyes and considered her opening move.  Running was out of the question, but if she waited for him to come to her, she would be allowing him to set the pace of the battle.   _And that's the last thing I want_.  She needed to end this fast, before exhaustion led her to inevitably reveal her injury.

 

Her mind made up, Yoruichi Flash Stepped forward, covering the distance between them with ease.  

 

Before he had time to register that she had landed on her good leg, she came swinging, her punch whistling past his cheek as he dodged.  Akira grabbed hold of her wrist, pulling her forward as he twisted his hip and went in for the kick.  

 

Yoruichi dropped down lower, feeling the ripple in the air above her that followed in the wake of his leg.  A dangerously narrow miss.  She swept the ground beneath him with her left leg, careful to aim with the shin and keep her ankle safe.  Akira was forced to let go and leap out of the way.

 

In a Flash, he had rematerialized behind her, right as she spun around from her sweep to face him.  In terms of power, he was giving it his all, she thought as she kept blocking kick after kick.  But his technique was… the only word for it was  _strange_.  She had seen Akira fight, she knew he favored quick blows chained with Flash Steps in an effort to break his enemy's defense and find an opening.  And yet today, he was being deliberately slower.  Where he would once have tried a different approach once his blows were deflected, he was now persisting, keeping her hands occupied even though it was becoming clear she was not letting him through.

 

 _He's trying to get me to use my legs.  Trying to trick me into kicking._   

 

Well, she was done playing cat and mouse.  If he was so very  _eager_  to test his hypothesis, she was going to indulge him.

 

The second he dashed forward again, she gave a broad sweep with her left leg, one she knew he could easily counter.  Akira didn't disappoint.  Triumph flashed in his eyes as his hand closed around her ankle, and though she had braced herself for the pain, Yoruichi had to muster up every ounce of self-discipline not to scream, or even grimace when he tightened his grip around the sprain. 

 

It was clearly not the reaction he had expected, but it was precisely his surprise that she had been counting on.  Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, Yoruichi bent backwards.  Using the momentum of her backflip, she gathered a hefty amount of spiritual energy into her right leg and brought her heel crashing into his jaw.

 

With a sharp yelp, Akira released her, and Yoruichi flipped back on both feet just in time to see him tumble to the ground.

 

_I know **that**  hurt._

 

Holding his –now dislocated- jaw, Akira glared up at her with a mixture of shock and fury.  Their spar was over; if Akira had any intention of continuing this charade, he would have already been up and charging straight for her.  Whether he was willing to let this go, or if he was considering a different course of future action she didn't know, but she felt safe in the knowledge that for today, he was done.  And not a moment too soon.  For all her nonchalant act, she didn't think she had the strength nor the stamina to keep pretending any longer.

 

"Have you gotten what you needed?" she said.  "Lieutenant?"

 

She could feel the spikes of rage in his fluctuating spiritual pressure as he approached, but to any casual onlooker, he did no more than smile to his cousin and give her a curt inclination of his head.  

 

* * *

 

**JANUARY 15 TH, 125 B.H.I., LIEUTENANT MATSUO'S OFFICE, THIRTEENTH DIVISION BARRACKS, COURT OF PURE SOULS – 5 P.M.**

 

A streak of dark red lined the underside of his fingernail.  Kisuke frowned at it, trying in vain to clear the crimson mark, only to push it further in.  His hand flew at once to his nape, to the spot behind his ear.  It was a foolish notion, thinking he might be able to tell by touch whether the water had washed away all of yesterday off his skin.

 

The shihakushō lay heavy and foreign on his shoulders, as though it had grown a mind of its own, already well aware that it was no longer a possession he had a right to own.  Kisuke ran a hand through his damp hair and exhaled, wishing Matsuo would hurry over already.  He only hoped the Captain wouldn't be making an appearance alongside her.  Dealing with one enraged and disappointed superior at a time was just about all he could take, on top of trying to maintain his spiritual pressure at an inconspicuous level.

 

His fingers pressed into the glossy marble furnish of Matsuo's desk, trying futilely to sink into the hard surface.  One jagged fingernail caught into a chink on the otherwise spotless desktop, the shrill sound of nail against stone oddly reminiscent of a scream—

 

The door flew open, jerking him out of his reverie and sending him jumping to his feet before he had even registered who had entered.  It was Matsuo.  Alone.   _Thank goodness._

 

She wasted no time with pleasantries, marching over to her seat behind the desk.  "Sit."

 

Kisuke did so, suddenly very aware of every dip and bump in the uncomfortable wooden chair.

 

Matsuo gave him the one-over, her sharp brown eyes unreadable.  "Did you get your foot healed?  Got the all-clear from the Fourth?"  Her voice was even, but a hint of brittleness lingered under the surface, like she was making a concerted effort to remain calm.

 

To say that the hospital staff was surprised to see him return would be a lie.  He remembered very little of the visit upon his return from Nagasaki, but the looks of recognition he received on arrival would've been hard to miss.  He nodded at Matsuo's question.

 

"I'm going to need to see the release form."

 

Given his earlier stunt with the DAMA form, he couldn't exactly blame her for asking.  Slipping a hand on the inside of his robes, Kisuke retrieved the hospital release form and handed it to Matsuo.  As she skimmed through its contents, it occurred to him that he had yet to utter a single word, not even a cursory salute.  Fear bloomed within him, at the possibility that he might be unable to muster the courage to speak during interrogation.  Unexpectedly, Officer Shutara's face swam into the forefront of his mind.

 

_"I'm not surprised someone like him was asked to pack up and leave the Thirteen."_

 

He saw himself in his mind's eye, reliving the memory of visiting Harada's home after that conversation, only to find it empty, a thick veil of unease permeating the house.  Half-made bed; rotten leftovers on the table; a trail of crusted mud on the wooden floor, covered by a solid inch of dust.  Was he about to suffer a similar fate to the recruits and officers who had inexplicably vanished?

 

"I don't know how I could have made myself any clearer, Urahara," Matsuo said, her words forcing him to focus back on reality.  "I  _told_  you; you step out of line again, and I'm benching you.  I  _know_  you hadn't forgotten," she said, dropping the release form on the desk.

 

 _Speak, speak, sp—_  "I hadn't; you're right, Lieute—"

 

"I'm not done."

 

The knot he had forced undone by sheer force of will retied itself around his throat, and Kisuke fell silent.

 

"I will be perfectly upfront: I wanted you out."

 

Kisuke's shoulders seized up.   _Say it, say it.  Get it over with, I can't—_

But Matsuo was only getting started.  "You saw fit to return to active duty against medical advice, refused to share information with a superior when prompted," she said, the glimmer of fury in her eyes growing stronger with every item added to the list.  "Abandoned your post against  _express_  orders, left a teammate behind to engage an enemy who –by all rights- should have been well beyond your fighting ability, and then a squad of Onmitsukidō men come to find you  _covered_  in blood, the building in shambles, traces of nearly a  _hundred_  soul signatures in the air, the Quincy's body in  _literal shreds_ and you're not saying a single word."  Nostrils flaring as she paused to catch her breath, Matsuo let out a deep sigh, jaw clenched.  "Give me  _one_  reason why I should even consider keeping you on after this.  Hell, I'm not even looking for a  _good_  reason, Urahara, just  _something_  that isn't an apology or a mutter or any of the half-assed excuses we've managed to wrench out of you in the last few hours." 

 

Kisuke's eyes seemed unable to move, now boring into Matsuo's, unblinking, as his lips parted tremulously.

_He was a young boy with a long scar running down his face.  Determined enough to summon and consume the dead to take me down.  It was the most exhilarating moment of my life.  And then I tore him up from within._

 

"Well?"

 

Finally managing to tear his gaze away, Kisuke swallowed, eyes downcast.  "I have none, Lieutenant."

 

Matsuo could only sigh.  "You even got the Captain conflicted, and that's saying something."  Out of the corner of his eye, Kisuke saw her reach up to massage her temple.  "I pushed for your immediate dismissal.  Captain Ukitake was considering it, but the decision has been taken out of his hands.  The Central 46 intervened."

 

 _What?_   Kisuke looked up sharply, certain he must have misheard.

 

"Apparently, we are not to tarnish the festive atmosphere that is meant to follow the official end of our conflict with the Quincy," Matsuo said.  "Especially not by making an example out of a Soul Reaper who took down one of the ringleaders."

 

A nervous feeling, not unlike sickness, clung at the pit of his stomach.  It festered there, filling him with an apprehension diametrically opposed to the one he'd been experiencing before Matsuo's arrival.  Where he'd dreaded facing the inevitable before, he was now consumed with the unshakable feeling that he was missing something, a piece of vital information. 

 

Even if what Matsuo had just said was entirely true, it made no sense for the councilmen of Central 46 to intervene on his behalf, a Soul Reaper of negligible rank, and even more negligible lineage.  His dismissal from the Thirteen could have easily been handled under wraps, with no one being none the wiser. 

 

"Your punishment, however, still falls within our purview," Matsuo said.  "You're suspended for three weeks without pay and removed from active duty until… until I damn well please.  Might as well be indefinitely.  Dismissed."

 

It took a few moments for her words to sink in, Kisuke's mind still far too preoccupied with the bizarre circumstances of his reprieve.  The knot slowly forming on Matsuo's brow made him realize the meeting was now over, and he sat up at once, falling into a rigid bow before her.  "Lieutenant."

 

He was not aware of leaving her office or even placing one foot after the other, not until he found himself standing out by the barracks entrance, the first few droplets of an oncoming rainfall landing on his hair.  Kisuke looked up at the dark clouds gathering, wondering if there was more than one storm brewing in the horizon.

 

 _One crisis at a time,_  he told himself, his scowl deepening.  He may have temporarily escaped a more severe punishment, but he was not out of the woods quite yet: evidence of the events that had taken place two days ago still remained.  Thankfully, Yoruichi's involvement in Nagasaki didn't seem to have been picked up by anyone.  He had urged her to lay low once the Onmitsukidō had arrived at the scene, and hadn't met up with her since.  With any luck, she would be in the clear. 

 

With a Flash, he set off toward the Training Grounds, his senses on alert for a possible tail.  Given how tight-lipped he'd been about what had transpired in Nagasaki, he wouldn't put it past Matsuo to have him constantly followed in search of answers.  By the time he reached the Sōkyoku Hill, the rain was pelting the streets of the Court in earnest.  Grateful for the shelter, Kisuke slipped through the concealed gate by the hillside.  He made his way down the long ladder, Flashing over to the small valley where he had defeated Benihime only a scant few hours ago.

 

It took less than a moment's glance for Kisuke to realize something about the picture before him was not right.  Though not entirely cleaned up, the scene was missing one key element: the Tenshintai.  Everything else, from his backpack to the bedroll was still where he'd left it hours ago.  And the area was crawling with Yoruichi's spiritual signature.  If she had intended to clean up the scene, she would've put everything else away as well, which could only mean—

 

_DAMMIT, YORUICHI!_

 

Her vibrant, lingering trail was an open taunt, and as he followed it out of the Court, part of him had to wonder if this wasn't her idea of revenge for being left out of the loop.  It certainly wouldn't be the first time she retaliated for a perceived slight.  In his fury, he almost missed the sudden change in the signature's strength.  Though the path continued on to the Rukongai, the sudden shift implied that there was a second trail, one she had been meticulous about hiding before returning to this point.  And he had a pretty good idea why, as well as where the traceable path would end.   

 

Chilled to the bone, limbs heavy and taut with tension, Kisuke landed on his front yard.  He marched with purpose though the muddy puddles and up the front steps, pushing the front door of his home open.  As he had expected, he found the firepit already lit, the warmth of the roaring fire staving off the worst of the cold.

 

Curled up into a tight ball of fluff, Yoruichi lay before the roaring hearth.  One of his indoor robes was draped over the cabinet, and the table bore evidence of a recent meal.

 

"Made ourselves comfortable, have we?" Kisuke said, pushing the wet fringe off his forehead with a sniff.

 

Yoruichi's bright golden eyes popped open in the semi-illuminated room.  "I came here a while ago," she said, letting out a yawn.  "Got bored waiting." She stretched her front legs, then settled her chin upon her paws.

 

Eager to change out of his dripping clothes, Kisuke slipped off his sandals and wet socks, then picked up the discarded robe on his way to the washroom.  Yoruichi's eyes followed him along the way, and he could tell by the twitch in her tail that she was expecting an imminent outburst.  She said nothing, nor did he hear her move about as he peeled off his uniform to lay it out on the clothesline, where a towel had already been hung out to dry. 

 

He had come here eager for a confrontation, even a quarrel, the trying day he'd had shedding his meager defenses layer by layer, until he was left feeling like an exposed nerve.   _And yet…_   Kisuke buried his nose into the robe, inhaling the faint trace of jasmine that clung to it and closed his eyes, sighing.  Forehead pressed against the wooden panels of the wall, he tried to hold on to the last few vestiges of anger and frustration, but found that it was futile.  They were driven away in a spell by her scent on his clothes, by her invading presence all over the house.

 

Slipping into the robe, he picked up a clean towel and stepped back out into the living room, rubbing his hair dry.  "So… what did you do with it?" he said as he sat down on the futon beside her, towel draped over his shoulders.

 

A hint of a smirk appeared on her lips, her tail furling and unfurling playfully around her coiled form.  "Kept it safe from you, apparently," she said.  "You were going to destroy it, weren't you?"

 

Kisuke reached for the empty teacup on the table and filled it up with what turned out to be lukewarm tea.  "Last time I checked, it was mine to do with as I pleased," he said, setting the kettle down and bringing the cup to his lips.  "So…?"

 

Yoruichi rolled onto her back and stretched again.  "So?"

 

Setting the cup down, Kisuke pinched the bridge of his nose. "The Tenshintai, Yoruichi," he said.  "I'm going to need it back."

 

"Mmmmmmm—" Busying herself with swatting a nonexistent fly in mid-air, Yoruichi pretended to mull his suggestion over.  Her hind legs still facing the hearth, she twisted her upper body into an angle that would've been impossible for her true form and stared right at him.  "—mm… Nope."

 

The earlier soothing effect of her presence quickly diminishing, Kisuke found himself in the early stages of developing a raging migraine.  "This is serious—"

 

"Oh, I know," Yoruichi said.  "I'm not hogging it just to be annoying.  I'm simply waiting until your Drama Queen phase dwindles down; then it's all yours."

 

"My  _Drama—_ "

 

"See, there you go,  _right_  there," she said, pointing a paw at him.  "Every single time something bad happens, you brood and you wallow and you blame yourself for  _everything_ , and then you get testy, which granted, is kind of enjoyable since it's almost  _impossible_  to get a rise out of you otherwise—"

 

"I am not  _wallowing_ —"

 

"Yes, you are.  So you killed a person, who –might I point out-  _was your enemy_ ," she said.  "And it's not like this is the first time you've killed someone."

 

A muscle tightened in his jaw.   _No.  First time I **slaughtered**  someone, though._

 

"Nor will it be the last.  It's kind of a job requirement for us, y'know?" she said.  Her tone was casual, but Kisuke knew that she had not forgotten the incessant tremor in her hands the day after she had first taken a life, the strain in her voice, the sleepless nights that had followed.  "So how is this any different?  Did you get kicked out of the Thirteenth for disobeying orders?"

 

"No."

 

"Demoted?"

 

"No.  Just suspended."

 

"So this really is all about you getting freaked out by that mysterious bankai of yours."

 

Kisuke froze.  "This is about you hiding a dangerous—"

 

"Did I mention  _evasive_?  Broody, wallowing, self-hating, testy and evasive—"

 

"Yoruichi," Kisuke said, not raising his voice, but injecting it with a kind of finality that brought an arch to Yoruichi's brow.  "The Tenshintai  _must_  be destroyed.  Please understand this.  I built it for our shared use, but I think it's been made abundantly clear that this can no longer be the case."

 

"You achieved bankai; why could this not help—"

 

"Because it's not worth it!" Kisuke said.  "What you have with Maya… Trust me, you do  _not_  want to see it crumble before your eyes, to find yourself unable to—" He sighed.  "I told you before and I'll tell you again: you were right.  Some things take time and I— I just wanted to prove it could be done."   _I wanted to beat him.  I wanted to impress my superiors, and you and... and your father._   "And I have.  Experiment over."

 

Yoruichi fell silent, her feline face now bearing a striking resemblance to her true one as she gave him an earnest look.  "Are you telling me that when you first conceived of this you  _never_  pictured the number of ways it might be used in the future?" she said.  "What about all that talk of  _revolutionizing bankai approach_?"

 

"That was— Before.  Besides, there  _is_  no way to use this other than to challenge the spirit within to a duel."

 

Yoruichi scoffed.  "Off the top of my head: helping someone close to materialization understand the concept, help them get used to the physical strain of materialization, building a better working relationship with one's spirit.  If  _I_  can think of three different ways, you can think of a hundred and three.  So don't lie."

 

Kisuke wrapped his arms around his knees.  Part of him understood that had Yoruichi known what had transpired in that church, her line of questioning would've been far less invasive.  It was natural for her to be curious, concerned, even.  But facing her reaction, having to live with the consequences of telling her the truth, was not something he was prepared for.  His mistakes in Nagasaki and the days leading up to the confrontation had already taken enough from him.  

 

His attempt to shift the conversation elsewhere wasn't the most elegant of maneuvers, but it would have to do.  "You want to use this in the Onmitsukidō?" he said, turning to her.  Her assertions that the Tenshintai could be used on a broad scale could only mean that she had considered this.

 

"Perhaps.  Once things have settled down."

 

"Settled down from what?"

 

Yoruichi flopped onto her belly, resting her chin on her paws.  "I'm pretty sure Akira knows I was in Nagasaki," she said, her tail twitching.  "And he's trying to prove it."

 

"How would he even—?  You left no trace behind, I'm certain of it."

 

"I thought so, too," Yoruichi said.  "But I think he was already starting to suspect something when his squad found your colleague, Nishimura.  I was there, in hiding, and when I tried to snatch one of those Quincy tubes before they moved their bodies, Akira saw something."

 

"He doesn't know about your cat form, does he?"

 

Yoruichi shook her head.  "But later on, when I made a run for it, I tripped and sprained my left ankle.  I must've left a footprint behind, because he  _knew_.  He came up to me today during morning training, pretending to be there for a spar and he kept trying to get me to use my left leg."

 

 _So much for thinking she was in the clear.._.  From what Yoruichi had told him of Akira, Kisuke knew he was a skilled tracker.  A deep, misshapen footprint in the ground would have been easy for him to interpret correctly.  And given what he already knew of their relationship, making the mental jump to Yoruichi helping him out in some shape or form was a natural conclusion.

 

Still, it would be impossible for him to take action without concrete proof.  "What did you do?" Kisuke said.

 

The expression on the cat's face was a very close approximation to a smirk.  "I used my left leg." 

 

Kisuke laughed.  Yoruichi's tolerance to pain was legendary; he had no trouble picturing her toughing it out and fighting even when severely injured.  The fact that she had managed to keep it a secret, however, was remarkable.  "How bad?"

 

"Ehhh…"

 

If she wasn't dismissing his concern at once, it could only mean she was experiencing great discomfort.  "Go change, then."

 

There was a slight twitch in the flutter of her tail as she stared at him in silence.  "You're wearing my robe."  Had her feline form been capable of such a thing, he knew she would have smirked right about now.

 

"Of course, how unforgivably thoughtless of me," Kisuke said, shaking his head.  Yoruichi's presence in his home had been such a constant from the very beginning, the way she moved about within its walls so natural.  Even in her absence, it bore evidence of her involvement everywhere, from the new furniture to the young maple tree growing in the garden. 

 

It was often difficult to remember that he actually lived alone.

 

Getting up, he made his way over to the washroom in search of another yukata.  Once undressed, he stuck one arm out through the threshold and tossed the vermilion robe in her general direction.  He could hear her shuffling about the living room as he changed into the new robe and hung back by the door, unsure of how to proceed.  He was about to call out a warning, when Yoruichi beat him to it.

 

"Are you decent?" 

 

Laughing, Kisuke ambled back into the living room.  "Haven't been in the last century or so, no," he said, making his way over to the futon.

 

It wasn't until he saw the yukata on Yoruichi that Kisuke took the time to appreciate it.  In the past, it had been an entirely utilitarian garment, and he could not recall ever giving any thought to its aesthetic properties.  The vermilion color that most likely washed out his pale skin looked stunning against hers.  He had never even noticed that it was embroidered with white lotus flowers throughout, the crest of the Urahara clan.  

 

Forcing himself to abandon his current train of thought, Kisuke took a seat on the futon across her.  After a moment of trepidation, Yoruichi slipped her ankle into his waiting hands.  When his fingers pressed against the slightly swollen area, she let out a hiss, her foot giving an involuntary jerk.  "Here?" he asked.

 

"Mmmnnn."

 

She hadn't lied; as he reached out with an exploratory kaidō, he could feel the damage in the offending ligament.  A near-rupture of this magnitude was a difficult injury to heal.  How had she even been able to withstand walking, much less fighting Akira?  

 

With a gentle hand, he placed the sole of her foot against his knee and set about repairing the damage.  As much as he needed to concentrate, he wished she would at least break the silence.  Right now, he would welcome any distraction from the feel of her ankle against his hand, or the soft moans of discomfort that resonated in her throat.

 

Miraculously, Yoruichi seemed to have read his mind.  "If... If you don't want the Tenshintai in someone else's hands, I won't pressure you," she said.  When his eyes flitted over to hers, she shrugged. "It's  _your_  invention.  I just don't want you to destroy something –quite frankly- ingenious because you're afraid.  That's all.  Take a few days to cool down; what happens to it afterward is your decision."

 

"I don't need to cool down."

 

"Yes, you do.  You're tense."

 

_I'm tense because it's been a shitty day, my career has been basically flushed down the drain, my greatest invention destroyed my relationship with Benihime, and yet all I can think about right now is how soft your skin is and how I'd like nothing more than to touch every inch of you._

"Mmmm, it's called  _thinking,_ " Kisuke said, chuckling when she retaliated with a playful kick of her free heel. 

 

At the very least, her words had given him something to consider when he returned to the task at hand.  

 

It was a delicate position he had found himself in, both proud of his single greatest creation and terrified of its misuse in the wrong hands.  A few days ago, it would have never occurred to him to count himself among the latter.  But the temptation had been too great to ignore, the promise of a shortcut in acquiring power too tantalizing.  He hadn't be able to resist it.  Could anyone?   

 

And yet Yoruichi had made a compelling argument of her own.  Scientific advances would always run the risk of being subject to abuse, no matter how noble the original intent.  But when armed with knowledge of the potential risks, with real-life, empirical data, he held the power to determine the course of the invention's future however he saw fit.  Assuming he chose to do so in the first place.

 

"All right," he said after a long pause.  "You can have it.  Under three conditions."

 

Yoruichi's shoulders perked up. "Yes?"

 

"One, you only use this for Soul Reapers close to materialization, and not before you've explicitly outlined the possible ramifications of failure."

 

"Yes, of course—"

 

"Two, you do not reveal who built this.  The Development Department of the Onmitsukidō can have all the credit, I don't care."

 

"And third?"

 

Kisuke looked up to meet her eye.  "You never use this yourself.   _Ever_."  

 

Braced for an argument, Kisuke kept a close watch on Yoruichi's face as her eyes narrowed imperceptibly.  He expected her to accuse him of having no faith in her abilities, of mollycoddling her, of insulting her even, but after a long bout of silence, Yoruichi only nodded.  "Deal," she said.  "It's not like I need it, anyway."

 

"True enough," he said, returning the smirk she flashed at him.   

 

Because she was his friend, she refused to let him give up, refused to tell him what he wanted to hear, and instead always told him what he  _needed_  to hear.

 

Because she was his  _best_  friend, when he expressed the desire to spend the rest of the day by the fire, doing nothing, she did not leave him alone with his thoughts and stayed the night, her soft purrs lulling them both to sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

**MARCH 13 TH, 125 B.H.I., THIRTEENTH DIVISION BARRACKS, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

Kisuke rubbed his bloodshot eyes with the balls of his hands and let out a deep sigh.  This turned out to be a singularly Bad Idea.  The cramped, musty office hadn't been properly cleaned since the formation of the Thirteen Divisions, Kisuke assumed; one breath was all it took for decades' old dust to lodge in his throat, sending him into a coughing fit.

 

As he banged his fist against his chest, his stinging eyes watered with the effort it took to regulate his breathing.  If the sheer dullness of his newest post's responsibilities didn't kill him outright, the environment very well might.  With a –careful- sigh, he returned to the report laid out on the tiny desk before him.  Next to him, the massive stack of documents he had to go through before the end of his shift loomed like an unscalable mountain.      

 

_"…of special designation were dispatched with every individual squad.  Members were chosen by their casting ability in late 70s level kidō, and served as invaluable beacons of communication throughout the deployment."_

 

"Of course," Kisuke said out loud into the empty room, sick of the tomb-like silence in the office.  "Why  _wouldn't_ you engage extra Soul Reapers to do meaningless labor that could be done by a simple device?"  Cheek resting against his balled fist, he flipped the page and continued reading.

 

_"They were essential for contracting officers.  They allowed us to stay in constant communication with each other and with personnel at the site.  Our Logistic Group commander, who approved all purchases for the deployment, could contact his contracting officers at any time with requests or questions."_

 

"Was the question how can we cost our Division even  _more_  money in a dragged-out, suboptimal operation?" he drawled.

 

"Hmmm, what would you have done differently?"

 

Kisuke whipped around in his chair at the sound of the familiar voice.  Leaving no trace of spiritual presence in the air, his visitor had gone undetected, but there was no mistaking that voice.  His mind was already preparing itself for a face-to-face with his Captain, long before his eyes confirmed what he already knew.

 

Captain Ukitake stood by the threshold, the scant light emanating from the corridor outside bouncing off his long, white hair; Kisuke hadn't even realized the sun had long ago set.  The Captain's expression was disarmingly affable.  In the many scenarios Kisuke had mentally acted out in preparation for this event, the staggering majority involved a far less genial Captain.  In fact, the only  _good_  scenarios he had been able to come up with involved the meeting never taking place.  Since returning to the Thirteenth a week ago, he hadn't seen hair nor hide of the Captain, and had –mistakenly as it turned out- assumed his superior had nor the desire nor the time to admonish him in person.

 

Kisuke leapt up onto his feet, dropping into a low bow.  "Captain Ukitake."

 

The Captain gave him a gentle nod in response, then motioned toward the exit.  "Take a walk with me, Urahara."

 

The excuse left his lips before he had even consciously formed the thought.  "The uuhh… that is to say, my reports—" He didn't fear a lecture, or even an angry confrontation.  Yet he was certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Captain's Ukitake's disappointment, expressed in his calm, soothing voice, would be a thousand times worse than a roomful of superiors shrieking at him in unison.

 

"I have already spoken to your supervisor.  You are dismissed for the day," Captain Ukitake said, then, without waiting for a response, stepped out into the corridor.  "Come."

 

Swallowing hard, Kisuke picked up Benihime and secured her on his obi before following the Captain.

 

No words were spoken until they had left the barracks, stepping onto the green, dewy grass of the exterior grounds.  Captain Ukitake breathed in the crisp night air and smiled up at the stars, arms folded behind his back.  A healthy pink sheen tinted his cheeks, and Kisuke was reminded of an off-hand comment Matsuo had once made, about how the Captain tried to take advantage of his better days and drink in the outdoors as much as his responsibilities would allow.

 

Kisuke followed along as they wandered about the small cherry orchard, trying to keep his stares as inconspicuous as possible.  Figuring he might as well enjoy the walk for as long as he could, Kisuke followed the Captain's lead, allowing the fragrant, borderline cloying scent of the blooming sakura to soothe his nerves.

 

"You haven't answered my question," the Captain said. 

 

"Sir?"

 

"About what you would have done differently," Captain Ukitake said, turning to face him.

 

"Oh," Kisuke said, feeling color rise to his cheeks.  His comment had no doubt been taken as haughty criticism, which, to be fair, it partly had been.  "I didn't— I only meant—"

 

"I'm not admonishing you, Urahara.  I am genuinely curious."

 

A little taken aback, Kisuke mimicked the Captain in crossing his arms behind his waist.  "Well… I personally think it's a waste, engaging so many high-ranked officers for simple missions when their talents could well be needed elsewhere."

 

"I don't think anyone would challenge this," Captain Ukitake said.  "But communication between squads is vital, is it not?  Hell Butterflies are reliable, but ultimately too slow for relaying urgent messages, and sadly, Tenteikūra is far too complex a spell for non-seated officers."

 

"I agree, sir," Kisuke said.  "All I'm saying is that instant communication could be achieved using far simpler and less costly means."

 

"Elaborate, please?"

 

The expression of interest now drawn upon the Captain's face encouraged him to go on.  "If casting ability is an issue, why not imbue an  _object_  with the necessary spell?  It could serve as a seal, of sorts, allowing the user to activate it whenever they wish to relay a message."

 

"There have been attempts to do so in the past, but they never worked."

 

One of the greatest problems when it came to research within the Thirteen Divisions, aside from the lack of an organized force, was scale.  What few efforts were made always focused on matters like gigai development: worthy projects that ultimately  either failed  due to absence of a defined scope, or never received enough financial support to be actualized to their fullest potential.  Interest in scientific advancement was nonexistent, because the salient parties had failed to demonstrate how even small, everyday problems within the divisions could be easily overcome with the right solution.

 

"Yes, I am aware," Kisuke said.  "But I think the problem was that Tenteikūra is, as you said, a far too complex spell.  The base material is always important when it comes to imbuement, and no material could— Well… I suppose a more correct way to put it is no  _current_  material in the market— Anyway, not important—  What I'm trying to say, is that the main obstacle isn't the material, it's the spell.  And a  _simpler_  version of Tenteikūra would work.  At least when it comes to relaying short messages, which is the objective 87% of the time anyway.  Longer, more complicated messages that aren't a priority can still be relayed via Hell Butterfly."

 

He hadn't even realized they had stopped moving until his tirade reached an end.  Captain Ukitake was now regarding him as though fearful –of his sanity perhaps- yet more than a little intrigued.  "Are you saying this is actually  _feasible_?" he said.  "That is, this is a project that could be completed in—"

 

"Anywhere from a week to a fortnight. Or more, depending on the amount of objects that are meant to be enchanted," Kisuke said.  "Once the prototype is perfected, it's only a matter of replicating the process."

 

"And you can… do this?  By yourself?"

 

"Well… yes, sir.  I wouldn't have suggested it otherwise."

 

Captain Ukitake stared at him with wide eyes, looking as though he wanted to speak, but said nothing.  Kisuke grew self-conscious under the scrutiny, and after a few long seconds of pregnant silence, he began to wonder whether he should speak up first.  The Captain, however, beat him to it.

 

Regaining composure, he gave Kisuke a smile, then continued to stroll ahead.  "Well… I am glad to see my decision has borne fruit already."

 

"Sir?"

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Captain Ukitake looked at Kisuke with a decidedly less genial gaze than he had so far worn.  "I faced quite the dilemma.  When it came to what was to be done with you, that is."

 

 _And there we go._   It would have been naïve to expect Captain Ukitake would opt not to mention the Nagasaki events at least once in this outing, and despite the earlier, friendly conversation, Kisuke hadn't once dropped his guard.   

 

"Sir, please permit me to say that I  _deeply_  regret—"

 

"That won't be necessary," Captain Ukitake said.  "Your remorse for your past actions has been evident since the very day you were brought in for questioning; that much has never been in doubt.  I hope you do understand, however, that this is in no way a reprieve?"

 

Kisuke met the older man's penetrating, somber eyes.  Captain Ukitake had always radiated a quiet, venerable sort of strength, the subtle, but undeniable power and wisdom that came with centuries of experience.  "Of course, Captain," Kisuke said.

 

"I fully support Matsuo's decision, make no mistake," the Captain went on.  "That having been said, it seems to me that we are allowing your talents to go to waste.  I have always believed that a punishment is, or rather  _should_  be, an opportunity to learn.  A Captain is meant to be a tutor and a guide, not merely a leader.  And as the situation stands, all I have managed to teach you is how to wallow in bitterness while engaging in menial, mind-numbing tasks.  There is value in this, in being afforded some time to think and reassess.  But it is not enough."      

 

The Captain came to a halt, his long, white robe swaying in the breeze as he turned to face Kisuke.

 

"I assume you are aware that Lieutenant Kitano was lost to us in Nagasaki?" he said.

 

Kisuke nodded.  "Yes, sir.  I hear Third Seat Officer Yamada is slated to be promoted to replace her."

 

"He is.  However, the situation has left Captain Unohana with a vacuum she will be unable to adequately fill for a while," Captain Ukitake said.  "The position of Third Seat Officer requires extensive medical training, and the Captain has confided in me that she does not feel strongly about any of the candidates quite yet.  She requires more time to provide them with sufficient training before she can make her decision.  The problem is that a Third Seat Officer's duties in the Fourth Division include certain administrative tasks as well, tasks she feels would distract them from the intensive training they are meant to undergo.  To that effect, she needs Soul Reapers to temporarily fill in for said duties.  I took the liberty of assigning you to her service for the foreseeable future."

 

"But… this is  _not_  a transfer?" Kisuke said, frowning.  Clear though the Captain's words had been, co-operation between Divisions outside of combat was exceedingly rare.  Kisuke could only assume the long-standing relationship between the two Captains was the reason for such an exception.   

 

"No.  You would merely be lending your assistance to Captain Unohana until the position of Third Seat Officer is filled," Captain Ukitake said.  "As I said, I feel this would be an excellent opportunity for you to learn by Captain Unohana's side.  Perhaps she could share a few pointers on how to properly suppress your newfound pool of spiritual power."

 

There was a very knowing, subtle smirk on the Captain's face as he spoke those words.  Frozen on the spot, Kisuke could do little but stare.  Captain Unohana had already been suspicious enough of the circumstances concerning his hospitalization three weeks ago.  When the subject of working in the fourth Division had been brought up, Kisuke had assumed he would have little to no contact with her, but right now, it was becoming obvious Captain Ukitake's suggestion was not quite as innocuous as he had originally thought. 

 

Had Captain Unohana requested him personally?  Was this assignment merely pretense in order to wrest a better confession out of him concerning the Nagasaki events?  Either way, it appeared he had no choice in the matter; Captain Ukitake had already made the call.

 

"Understood, sir," Kisuke said. "I am grateful for the opportunity."

 

"Excellent," Captain Ukitake said.  "You will report to the Fourth Division barracks tomorrow at seven sharp."

 

 _On the bright side, no more paperwork._  

 

"Once you are dismissed from the Relief Station," the Captain went on.  "Report back to Lieutenant Matsuo to resume your duties in the administration office for the day."

 

_…………………Fucking HELL._

 

If there was one thing Captain Ukitake had been wrong about, it was his perceived failings as a mentor.  After that night, Kisuke learned to never again assume an already bad situation couldn't possibly get any worse.

 

* * *

**JUNE 3 RD, 1956 A.D., URAHARA SHOP, KARAKURA TOWN, JAPAN **

 

More than once, she considered using the pillow trapped between her arms to smother a scream that she was never quite able to muster.  It was all there, the rage, the despair, the  _whys_ , but instead of bubbling up to the surface they festered somewhere deep within her, rendering her body numb and lifeless.

 

All she could do was stare at the night sky outside as she lay on her side, feeling more impotent than she ever had in her entire life.

 

Kaien.  Miyako.   _Dead_.

 

What little she had been able to wrench of out a tight-lipped Kisuke painted a clear enough picture: Miyako had died first, her squad slain under mysterious circumstances in an otherwise routine mission.  Kaien had followed soon after, taking it upon himself to face the Hollow that had taken his wife's life.  The details were still somewhat shrouded in mystery, but from what Sentarō had recounted, all deaths had been attributed to a Hollow that had the unique ability to destroy Soul Cutters. 

 

She hadn't needed to hear Kisuke's analysis to arrive to a conclusion as to who was behind this.

 

She felt it again, the urge to scream, and clutching the pillow even more tightly, she dug her nails into it.  Impotent, powerless, while somewhere out there, the culprit roamed free.  And Kūkaku had lost one of her brothers. 

 

It had taken every ounce of discipline she had not to visit Soul Society in disguise in the past, to keep an eye on things and report back with any new information.  She had always convinced herself that the risk was not worth it, that the friends and family she had left behind were all safe. 

 

Until they weren't. 

 

If Aizen had made such a bold move within Soul Society, there was little stopping him from making an even bigger statement.

 

 _Stop it, stop it stopit… You'd be playing right into his hands_ , she reasoned.  But the weaker, softer parts of her, the ones that she had long ago suppressed, the ones that only ever manifested in the quieter, reflective moments with Kisuke, those parts could only whisper back Kūkaku's name in unison.  And Suì-Fēng's.  And Yūshirō's.

 

Shutting her eyes and ears, she tried to silence them all, tried to ignore the voices – _Go back, go back, they need you, go back-_  and this time, it seemed, her scream would barrel through the lump in her throat and pierce the air, the walls—

 

"Yoruichi?"

 

The gentle hand on her shoulder made her jerk back violently.  She opened her eyes in the dark room, only to find Kisuke standing above the bed.

 

Pursing his lips, her let out a soft sigh and set the tray he was carrying upon the nightstand.  Yoruichi scooted back so he could take a seat next to her, but he made no move to close the distance.  "I brought you some dinner," he said.  "You haven't eaten anything since morning."

 

Yoruichi shook her head.  "I'm not really hungry.  Maybe later."

 

"All right," he said, nodding.  The scant light coming from the corridor kept him mostly shrouded in darkness, but she could still make out his eyes, the same guilt-ridden eyes he'd worn ever since Sentarō's visit.  "I'll just leave it here.  Is there anything else I can get you?"

 

"You're not coming to bed?"

 

"I… Not yet.  Still muddling through the shipment," he said.  "But you needn't wait up, get some rest."

 

She might've challenged the blatant lie, might've even powered through every deeply-ingrained habit against showing weakness and asked him to stay.  But everything about him, from his distance, the tension in his shoulders, his bafflingly apologetic tone, made her keep her silence.

 

Kisuke hesitated, then reached down to pull up the sheet over her shoulders.  His hand hovered near her head for a moment, then he withdrew it and turned his heel, heading for the stairs.  Under different circumstances, she might have questioned this bizarre behavior: while not always comfortable dealing with someone in distress, he'd at least made a genuine effort in the past.  Always diplomatic, always careful, but he'd never before treated her as though she were made of glass.

 

His steps came to a halt at the threshold.  The dark silhouette lingered, one hand gripping the door frame.  What seemed like an eternity later, Kisuke turned around to face her again, his body half-illuminated by a swath of light.  "I swear to you, I will make this right."

 

It was the tremor in his voice more than anything that made her sit up in bed.  "What?"

 

"Aizen.  He will pay for this," Kisuke said.  All vestiges of guilt seemed to be siphoned away at that moment, replaced by a coldness, a hardness she had never seen in his eyes before.  "I'm done sitting idle.  He wants a fight, I'll give it to him."

 

Jaw slackening, Yoruichi stared at Kisuke, trying to filter his words in a way that made even the remotest sense.  "What are you…?  What would we even _do_?"

 

Kisuke marched the length of the room in a few strides, apparently no longer in the mood to be tentative, and knelt by the bed, hands splayed on top of the mattress.  "I'll think of something.  I won't let him take anything away from you ever again, I  _swear_ ," he said, and she was shocked to see the edge fade away in his gaze, overtaken by despair so palpable, she momentarily flinched back.  Pain flashed in his eyes, but he was otherwise undeterred.  "I… I know you don't— You won't have to deal with me, I'll stay out of your way, I promise.  I just wanted you to know I'm not letting him get away with it, not this time."

 

Yoruichi held up both hands, taking a deep, steadying breath.  "Kisuke, just… back up a moment.  You're not making any  _sense_ ," she said.  "What are you talking about?"    

 

"You… You understand that what happened…  Aizen must've been behind the creation of such a Hollow, it's otherwise  _imposs_ —"

 

" _Yes, I understand that_ , I'm not an idiot," Yoruichi said, scowling.  "What I don't understand is what exactly you think we might be able to do about it.  If we made a move in Aizen's territory, playing  _his_  game, we would be slaughtered.  You  _know_  this, so what's with the knee-jerk reaction?  And all that crap about staying out of my way?  Where the hell did  _that_  come from?"

 

Kisuke pursed his lips again, looking away.  "You're angry, I underst—"

 

"You're damn right I'm angry!" she said, reaching out for his chin and forcing him to look at her.  "And if you so much as take a step toward the basement to obsess over that  _thing_  again, I'm going to be even angrier.  Oh, you thought I had no idea?" she said, upon the look of shock that crossed his features.  "That I didn't know what happens every single time I leave?"

 

If his words and actions were out of character, they was nothing compared to the sight of his expression, contorted beyond recognition by anguish.  "Look I… I screwed up, I  _know_  I did, I just need—"

 

"Are we having two separate conversations here?  What the  _hell_  are you even going on about?"

 

"I… I just… I'm trying to—"

 

Burying her face into her palms, Yoruichi let out a groan.  This morning might have happened half a lifetime ago, Kisuke's narration of the events made a thousand times worse by her imagination, his senseless apologies and guilt-ridden mutterings making her head spin.  "Kisuke, I  _swear_ ," she said.  "This has been a trying enough day as it is, and if I have to coddle you to get a single straight answer out of you—"

 

And in a maddening turn of events, instead of dropping the act and being honest with her, all he could do was look away again, his voice barely above a whisper.  "See, this is  _exactly_  why I said I'd stay out of your way."

 

It was just about all she could take.  And it was starting to become clear that he was being deliberately obtuse, in the hopes that it would drive her to a breaking point and make his apparent fear a reality.  Well, she was about to indulge him. 

 

"You know what?" she said.  "If you really do want to stay out of my way _that_  bad, let me make it a little  _easier_  for you."

 

"Yoru—" He reached out, but he was too slow for her, always had been, his fist closing around an empty shirt, the one she had worn but a moment ago.

 

Her feline body streaked up to the window ledge, fast as lightning, and with a jump, she became one with the shadows, the voices in her head screaming  _run, run, run._

 

* * *

 

 

**APRIL 24 TH, 125 B.H.I., FOURTH DIVISION RELIEF STATION, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

As his head rolled back to rest against the wall behind him, Kisuke closed his eyes, struggling to catch his breath.  He could feel the beginnings of a cramp developing in his calf, but the tiny storage closet left little room for him to stretch.  Carefully, he pressed his foot down against the floor hard, feeling the throbbing in the muscle intensify for a moment, before it slowly ebbed away.

 

"Oh  _shit_."

 

Kisuke slipped his eyes open.  "That bad?"

 

The petite redhead straddling his lap let out a chuckle, before pushing the fringe of damp, copper hair away from her flushed forehead.  "I'm late," she said, gently disentangling herself and climbing off him.

 

Kisuke watched her as she scrambled for her discarded underwear and hakama, not entirely certain how to feel about the whole situation.  His first experience with a lover had been… well, quite frankly terrible for all parties involved.  The second could only be described as  _educational_.  The third was something entirely new and altogether unexpected.  When he'd first met Tsukuda Jun, he had never  _dreamed_  the ensuing events would lead to them sneaking in for a quickie in a cramped storage closet ever so often, but then again, stranger things had happened. 

 

She was cute, clever, and most importantly, very casual about this entire affair.  In short, a perfect, pleasant distraction in the current mess that was his professional life.

 

"What are you late for?" he asked, pulling up his own hakama as Tsukuda set about combing her fingers through her hair.

 

"Believe it or not, I  _do_  have things to do other than chase down identity thieves," she said with a smirk.

 

Kisuke chuckled, rolling his eyes at her.  " _Identity thief_ ," he said, scoffing.  "I was only—"

 

"You forged my signature to check out books from our library," she said, turning to face him, arms akimbo.  "What would you call that, if not identity theft?  You're lucky I let you get off so easy."

 

When he had recounted the story to Yoruichi a few days ago, she had thankfully focused on the part where he'd been unfortunate enough to choose a girl's signature to forge; in his defense, Tsukuda  _did_  have a unisex name.  They hadn't discussed what had followed, though it hadn't been for a lack of trying on Yoruichi's part.  When she'd asked him how the girl in question had reacted once she'd discovered his antics, Kisuke told her the truth: that he'd explained to her he was looking for literature on his developing gigai and that Tsukuda had asked to see the gigai in question. 

 

Yoruichi had asked him if that was a euphemism or the literal truth.  He chose not to tell her that it had actually turned out to be both.

 

Now dressed and looking presentable once more, Tsukuda carefully opened the closet door and took a peek outside at the corridor.  After a few silent seconds, she beckoned him over and they slipped outside, falling into a casual stroll.

 

Kisuke glanced at Tsukuda's wristwatch: 3:13 pm.  With his own shift at the Fourth Division close to an end, he was supposed to sign off on all his paperwork and get back to the Thirteenth for the remainder of the day. 

 

So far, he had been able to avoid encounters with Captain Unohana and today looked like it would be yet another successful day.  Though he didn't doubt Captain Ukitake's sincerity when it came to the reason for his new assignment, Kisuke had no desire whatsoever to spend more time with Captain Unohana than necessary.  He had a feeling the whole idea had been the brainchild of both Captains, but primarily Captain Unohana's, who had expressed a great deal of skepticism over his excuses when he had been her patient back in January.  He wouldn't be surprised if he'd learned she had issued a particularly condemning report following the incident.

 

Though he kept his eyes and ears peeled for any surprise encounters, Kisuke felt his concentration wane at the sound of Tsukuda's incessant muttering. 

 

Looking agitated, she wore a deep frown and kept repeating the same words under her breath.  "Wind, water, wound, wonder drugs and…?" she said, letting out a frustrated sigh.  " _Guh_ , what am I  _forgetting_?  Wind, water, wound, wonder drugs…"

 

"Walking," Kisuke said.

 

Tsukuda's head snapped toward his direction.  "Wh— Yes, walk— Wait, how do you even know this?"

 

"It's the mnemonic for post-operative fever diagnosis, isn't it?" Kisuke said.  "Wind, water, walking, wound, wonder drugs.  Ohhhh, are you one of the candidates for the Third Seat position?"

 

Apparently forgetting all about the need for haste, Tsukuda came to a stop and stared at him, her frown of concentration turning into a softer one.  "Yeaaahhh, I— Seriously, how do you know this?"

 

Kisuke let out a chuckle.  "I didn't borrow those books just for show, you know," he said.  "I read them."

 

"That was barely a  _week_  ago," Tsukuda said.  "That tome on surgical procedure alone is 800 pages long.  Post-operative complications aren't even covered until chapter thirty two."

 

He shrugged.  "I'm a fast reader."  In all honesty, it was also the first one he'd picked out to read, but still, it had flowed easily enough.

 

Tsukuda looked as though she wanted to say something, but their brief discussion was interrupted by a presence that took both of them by surprise.  Kisuke hadn't even sensed the familiar spiritual pressure until it was too late.

 

"Seventh Seat Tsukuda," said the calm, amiable voice of Captain Unohana.  "Just barely in time for my class, I see."

 

In unison, Kisuke and Tsukuda turned around to see the Captain approaching, a serene smile on her lips.

 

"Captain, I—"

 

"It's quite all right," Captain Unohana said, coming to a stop before them.  "Please go inform your classmates we will begin with a small delay.  I have a matter to attend to first, but I will be there shortly."

 

"Of course, Captain," Tsukuda said, giving her Captain a deep bow and hurrying down the corridor, presumably to her designated classroom.

 

Kisuke was about to follow suit, eager to make himself scarce before he had to spend any time in the Captain's presence, but she seemed to have other ideas.  Turning her heel, she motioned at him to follow.

 

He allowed himself a second's pause before he heeled along, the excuse ready on his lips.  "Captain Unohana, ma'am, I thought you said you had another matter to attend to?  I do not wish to—"

 

" _You_  are the matter in question, Urahara," she said, staring straight ahead, the unnerving smile never leaving her face.  "Hurry now, I have a tight schedule to adhere to today." 

 

Kisuke had to wonder if the rest of his career in the divisions would only ever consist of Captains with obscure motives asking him to follow along.  "Yes, ma'am."

 

In the time it took for their brisk walk to lead them to her office, Kisuke tried to reason with himself.  If she only had limited time to deal with him, the situation couldn't be nearly as dramatic as he was making it out to be in his head. 

 

On any other day, he might have openly coveted the veritable library that adorned the walls of Captain Unohana's office, but right now, he was otherwise preoccupied.  Captain Unohana asked him to close the door behind them and swept over to her desk, but instead of taking a seat, she began to rummage through the drawers.  "Captain Ukitake tells me you like to  _tinker_ , is that true?" she asked.

 

Kisuke arched an eyebrow at that.  "Er… excuse me?"

 

"You have a fascination with machinery."

 

"Uhhh, yes.  I suppose that is true, Captain."

 

"And you apparently enjoy reading medical textbooks in your free time?" she said, taking a brief pause from her search to give him a curious look. 

 

 _Ah_.  So she  _had_  overheard his discussion with Tsukuda.  "I… I am interested in gigai technology," he said.  "Their study and development requires a deep understanding of anatomy, physiology—" He was about to continue, before he remembered just who it was he was talking to.  As the Captain of the sole Division dedicated to gigai development, she had no need for him to explain what she was already intimately familiar with.  "You know all this, of course," he said, adding an apologetic smile for good measure.

 

"It is not my chosen field, but yes, I do," Captain Unohana said.  "Are you ambidextrous, Urahara?"     

 

 _What in the blazes…?_   "Er… to a small degree."

 

"How small?"

 

Her refusal to visually acknowledge him as she continued to rummage around her desk, coupled with the odd line of questioning was making him even more on edge.  "I can fight adequately left-handed," he said.  "Beyond that, I cannot really say, Captain." 

 

He had been working on improving his left hand's functionality for years now, but he was still not entirely satisfied with the results.  Developing strength was a prerequisite to moving on to more delicate movements, but it was hard to break the habit of automatically doing everything with his dominant right hand.

 

"Well," Captain Unohana said, standing up at long last and depositing an odd wooden tablet on her desk.  "Let's put it to the test, shall we?"

 

The strange device turned out to be a pegboard.  Pairs of small, round holes ran the length of the board in the middle.  For the ensuing few minutes, Captain Unohana gave him a veritable battery of tests: placing small pins in the holes using each hand separately within a time limit, using both hands together, repeating the entire process with tweezers, a more complicated assembly test and finally, a separate test in which he attempted a single-handed knot with either hand. 

 

Judging by the Captain's expression by the end of the session, he must've done reasonably well.  Instead of explaining herself, or even commenting on his performance, however, Captain Unohana stood up and beckoned him to do so as well.

 

"Hold out your hands," she said.

 

"Uhh…" More confused than ever, Kisuke did as he was told, but not without comment this time around.  "May I ask w—?"

 

"Quiet."

 

"Yes, ma'am."

 

Captain Unohana's focused gaze remained on his outstretched hands, and Kisuke realized she was checking for any signs of tremor.  After nearly a full minute of silence, she reached out, cradling his right hand in her palms and gently twisting the wrist, examining it further.  "Hmmm… A little big for surgery… But you make up for it with dexterity.  Left hand somewhat lacking, but you will work on it."  It was not a suggestion.

 

If there was any time to speak up, it was right now, but his throat seemed to have failed him ever since the Captain had uttered the word 'surgery.'

 

"I know from your transcript spellwork is not an issue," Captain Unohana went on, undeterred.  She let his hand go, then looked up to meet his eyes.  "But experience will be.  The basic skills are transferrable from other disciplines.  Real life experience is not.  Normally, Third Seat officers are required to have only minimal surgical experience—" 

 

She same to a stop the second she saw his facial expression; former Third Seat Yamada was the one who had operated on him back in January.  The procedure in question hadn't been overly complicated, but still nowhere near the  _realm_  of what Captain Unohana was describing as  _minimal experience_. 

 

As though reading his mind, she gave him a disparaging look. 

 

"Officer Yamada had been Third Seat for fifteen years, and is exceedingly talented to boot," she said.  "I do not like to surround myself with mediocrity, Urahara.  But you can now fully appreciate, I trust, why a solid replacement for Yamada is non-negotiable?  So to that effect…"  She turned around, marching back to her office and over to a stack of documents.  She leafed through them quickly, and when she found the one she had been searching for, she make a few quick notes before handing it over to him.

 

"Er…"

 

"Fill this out with your personal information and hand it over to administration," Captain Unohana said.  "Assuming you are interested in the position of Fifth Seat officer of this Division."

 

It took a few seconds for her words to sink in.  Kisuke held up the document, frozen on the spot, only sparing it a glance once Captain Unohana appeared to be losing her patience with him.  It was an application form, no doubt for participation in the training program Captain Ukitake had mentioned.  "I'm sorry... Fifth Seat?  I'm a little confused, you said—"

 

"I know, yes," Captain Unohana said, and for the first time today, her expression softened, betraying she wasn't oblivious to what it was she was asking of him.  "This potential transfer does not come with a promotion, I'm afraid.  But I would still like you to be trained along with the Third Seat candidates," she said.  "I understand this is not a very attractive offer, but there will be advancement opportunities in the future."

 

"I… Captain Uk—"

 

"I will talk to Captain Ukitake myself."

 

"……What of… my duties over at the Thirt—?"

 

"I will not make excuses for you, you will ride out the remainder of your probation for as long as Captain Ukitake deems fit," Captain Unohana said.  "But if you decide to move forward with the application, you will be excused from administrative duties in the Fourth Division," she said.  "Either way, I expect you in my office tomorrow at seven."

 

Pressed for time, Captain Unohana summarily escorted him out of her office where he stayed, his gaze still locked upon the application form.  The Captain had left most fields blank, only adding in her signature and a few select observations.  Kisuke's eyes fell upon a particularly interesting filed:  

 

**MOTOR SKILLS**

0 Not observed  
1 Inept   
2 Technically poor, but manages.  
3 Average capability.   
4 Good Hands. Rapid and precise.  
5 Potential to be a surgeon.

 

Captain Unohana had circled the fifth option.

 

Though he was still struggling to process this afternoon's proceedings, Kisuke was now convinced of one thing: no matter what Captain Ukitake had told him, his assignment over to the Fourth Division and Captain Unohana's apparent interest were anything but coincidental or unrelated.  He was being pushed toward joining Captain Unohana's squad.

 

And perhaps that wasn't an entirely unfortunate turn of events altogether. 

 

* * *

 

 

**MAY 6 TH, 125 B.H.I., SHIHŌIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

"I had an interesting talk with Commander Sasagawa yesterday."

 

Yoruichi paused mid-chew, glancing toward her father.  She had been expecting something of the sort when Mizuho came to her room at noon, announcing that her parents had requested they dine together for the evening.   _Which is code for father wants to speak to me but doesn't want it to seem like he does._   

 

While on leave from the Onmitsukidō, she would usually have her meals in her room, as she had during childhood.  Every now and then, her mother might join her, but for the past three years, she only ever ate in the dining hall for special occasions.  Or when her father had something to discuss.  

 

With her mother feeling under the weather and not there to act as a buffer, the atmosphere in the dining hall was more strained than ever.  Yoruichi had just ran out of random items in the hall to stare at blankly, picking at her udon listlessly, when her father broke the silence.  

 

"We were discussing the changes in the troops' training program," he said.  "And I brought forward a matter I've been mulling over the past couple of months."

 

Yoruichi gave him a questioning look, now waiting for the other shoe to drop.

 

"There is a certain…  _tool_  that was allegedly created in the Development Division," her father said.  Something about the tone of his voice made Yoruichi realize where the conversation was headed even before he clarified.  "A magnificent invention, holds the power to materialize a Soul Cutter spirit within an instant."

 

In retrospect, she had to admit she was surprised it had taken him this long to bring up the matter.  She had no doubt he had known who the creator of the Tenshintai was upon sight.  "Sounds useful," she said, both her voice and expression deadpan.

 

There was a glint in her father's eye as he spoke next.  "Quite," he said, steepling his fingers.  "It is also something beyond the technical ability of anyone currently in the Development Division.  They admitted as much upon inquiry.  And when I spoke to the Commander, he explained you were the one who first presented the Onmitsukidō with the invention, refusing to reveal its maker."

 

"It's true."

 

"May I ask how you chanced upon such an artifact?" There was not a single confrontational note in his words, only mild exasperation, but Yoruichi knew he was running out of ways to broach the subject laterally.  He was also running out of patience with her laconic replies, and to be honest, so was she.  

 

 _Enough games, already_.  "You already know how I  _chanced_  upon it," Yoruichi said, trying her best not to sound disparaging –with only moderate success.

 

It appeared as though her father was also not in the mood to dance around the subject any longer.  A knot formed on his forehead as he threaded his fingers and laid his hands upon the tabletop.  "Why the secrecy?" he said, surprising her with his candor; she had expected an admonition at the very least.

 

As much as she appreciated the more mature approach, however, this was not a conversation he needed to be having with  _her_.  "I'd say that's a question best directed at the original creator," she said.  "I was only honoring their request by keeping their anonymity."

 

"I see…"

 

Taking his prolonged silence as a cue that the matter had been dropped, Yoruichi returned to her meal with renewed gusto.  The sooner she finished up, the sooner this ill-advised dinner could come to an end.

 

"The Commander also tells me he's very pleased with your work in the Corrections Corps."

 

 _Oh, sonow that the important stuff is out of the way we've moved on to **me** , have we_?  Would he even have bothered to ask if she hadn't shot down his questions about Kisuke so fast?  Or was he simply trying to fill the awkward silence?  He had made his opinion of her choices crystal clear in the past.  Did he expect her to sit there and make small talk, pretend she didn't already know he disapproved?

 

A more forgiving person might have at least given him time until the end of the meal, but Yoruichi was not in a forgiving mood tonight.  If her father wanted to have a frank discussion about her career, a discussion she would truly welcome, all he needed to do was first acknowledge his past errors in judgment.  

 

Until he was ready to do so, and stopped harboring the delusion that all the bad blood could simply be wept under the rug, she refused to cooperate. 

 

"I should hope so," she said, placing her chopsticks down and patting her lips with a napkin.  "I've been diligent with my duties so far; I don't think he has any reason to complain."

 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father's eyebrows arch gently.  "You haven't finished your—"

 

"I'm quite full," she said, getting up on her feet.  "Goodnight, father." 

 

* * *

 

 

**SEPTEMBER 12 TH, 125 B.H.I., URAHARA RESIDENCE, 2ND DISCTRICT, NORTHWEST RUKONGAI, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

The jerk was  _snoring_. 

 

Forty five minutes of waiting for him in the marketplace, thinking he had been caught up at work, and he had been  _asleep_  the whole time.  

 

Arriving at his place in exasperation, she had found the living room in complete disarray and the jerk in question passed out on his futon, a journal acting as his pillow.  His hair was askew, his stupid mouth hanging slack and emitting noises that a befitted a saw rather than a person.  

 

Clenching her fists, Yoruichi gave him a hard nudge on the shoulder with her heel, pushing him onto his back.  "WAKE UP!"

 

Whether it was the push or her shout that did the trick, Kisuke obliged.  He made a sound between a snort and a gasp, his eyes snapping open as he rolled over.  The imprint of his notes was faintly tattooed upon his cheek.  "Mwhuh?"

 

"Yeah, hi, remember  _me_?" Yoruichi said, looming over him, arms folded before her chest.  "The person you  _stood up_  for about an hour?"

 

Clearly disoriented, Kisuke glanced around his mess of a living room with a blank gaze, as though he were trying to make sense of his surroundings.  Sniffing, he trained his unfocused gaze back on her, scratching the back of his head.  "Izzit noon a'ready?"

 

"It is.  Why aren't you at work?  We said we were meeting for midday break."

 

"Got the day off," Kisuke said, rubbing his bloodshot eyes with the ball of one hand.  "Last minute studying an' all."

 

"You wanna go back to sleep?"

 

"No, no," Kisuke said, pushing himself off the futon.  "Just… gimme a minute to wash up and we'll go."

 

Yoruichi watched him stumble across the living room, her fury abating somewhat when he stubbed his toe against the tea table.   Now hopping his way to the washroom, he let out a string of muttering that sounded an awful lot like obscenities.

 

She had always found it difficult to stay mad at him when he worked himself near death as he was wont to.  His legendary all-nighters happened often enough that she had to wonder if he truly had any use for the upstairs bedroom.  Nine out of ten times she had come over to find him asleep it had been by the firepit, surrounded by stacks of documents and journals. 

 

And again, nine times out of ten, he looked as pitiful as he did right now, dragging his feet out of the washroom: pale, underweight and almost permanently hunched.

 

The fresh air revitalized him somewhat, but it wasn't until he had a cup of strong tea in hand that color began to return to his cheeks.  It was a warm enough day to sit outside, and she figured the change of scenery might do him some good.  The lively chatter of the patrons in the teahouse and the rich, autumn colors of the trees lining the marketplace certainly made for a better environment than the inside of his unkempt home.

 

"So…" Yoruichi said, taking a sip off her own cup and leaning back in her chair.  "Exam's tomorrow?"

 

Kisuke nodded.  "Mmm."

 

"I won't keep you long then, we'll just grab a quick bite—"

 

"It's fine," Kisuke said, waving off her concern.  "Anything I haven't learned by now, I'm not going to learn in an afternoon.  I needed the break."

 

"And the sleep, apparently," she said.  Trying to balance his responsibilities in the Thirteenth Division while keeping up with Captain Unohana's lessons must've been exhausting.  She only hoped it hadn't all been for nothing.  "Is Captain Ukitake even willing to let you go?"

 

" _He_  is," Kisuke said, resting one elbow against the table and raking his fingers through his hair.  His errant fringe now nearly reached the tip of his nose; he was in dire need of a haircut.  "Lieutenant Matsuo, however, seems to think I'm being rewarded for abysmal behavior."

 

Yoruichi gave him a wry grin at the sound of that.

 

Kisuke let out a chuckle.  "You don't agree?"

 

"I think you've both been punished and punished yourself long enough," she said.  "I mean, how is it in  _any_ way fair that you're taking the same damn test as the Third Seat candidates, but you're not eligible for the position?"

 

She expected him to show a small sign of displeasure at the very least, but if anything, Kisuke looked contrite instead.  "Yes, well… I  _did_  come very close to being dismissed from the Thirteen altogether," he said.  "Promotion or no, the transfer came at an opportune time.  I was quite fortunate."

**_Fortunate_**.  Luck had had very little to do with this job offer, and she was certain that despite assertions to the contrary, Kisuke knew this as well.

A mind like his did not go unnoticed for long.  Every single time he doubted himself or gave up, someone always seemed to conveniently swoop in to steer him in their preferred direction.  A confident Kisuke was a force to be reckoned with.  A directionless one was a ripe fruit, ready for the plucking by the highest bidder currently in the game.  With Yoruichi's own father currently out of the running, it appeared Captain Unohana had stepped up to the plate.  

 

_Perhaps already grooming her next Lieutenant for when Yamada moves on._

 

"I suppose there is no point in staying in the Thirteenth with Matsuo breathing down your neck all the time," Yoruichi said.  "Not that she's wrong or anything, but regaining her trust could take years, and that's time better spent advancing your career in other ways.  Assuming, of course, you actually  _want_  to become a healer."

 

Despite his clear interest and talent with kidō, it was senseless to make a career shift to healing when he could have easily joined the Kidō Corps, instead.  And while she did not voice the logical continuation of her train of thought, she could tell Kisuke had heard the insinuation in her tone.  

 

Even so, he did no more than shrug.  "Eh."

 

"Eh?   _Eh_?"   _Good grief, he's going to be the end of me_.  "Kisuke, you're fewer than twenty-four hours away from sitting an exam that will ensure you will become just that for the foreseeable future."

 

"It's not like I had anything else to aim for," Kisuke said, wholly sanguine as he took another sip of tea.  "It's new, interesting and I'd be improving my spellwork immensely.  I like the idea."  Upon sight of her scowl, he chuckled, pointing his cup in her direction.  "Sprinting up the ladder to the top is your ambition, not mine," he said with a grin.  "I'm comfortable just going with the flow, you know that."

 

There were a dozen arguments she could have made in response, but Yoruichi kept her silence.  Stressing Kisuke out on the eve of an important exam would accomplish nothing.  

 

She merely wondered whether he was aware of his own circumstances, or if he was also lying to himself.  For a man who claimed not to care, he had worked and studied himself into exhaustion to escape into the Fourth Division.  And straight into a position that would ensure his days on the field would from now on be limited to support.  

 

Where he would once actively seek out opportunities to test his mettle in battle, he now shied away.  Yoruichi couldn't even remember the last time she had seen him train with Benihime.  

 

Even now, he was still punishing himself.

 

* * *

 

 

**DECEMBER 20 TH, 125 B.H.I., THE SUPREME COMMANDER'S QUARTERS, ONMITSUKIDŌ COMPLEX, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

The sky burned orange as the sun descended beneath the mountain line in the distance.  Twilight was approaching when Yoruichi crossed the suspended walkway, making her way to the Commander's quarters under the slowly waxing veil of purple. 

 

The entrance was flanked by two men of Sasagawa's personal guard.  They made no move to stop her, merely acknowledged her with sharp, hawk-like eyes, allowing her to enter.

 

Sasagawa Mitsuru was leafing through the short stack of documents in his lap, legs casually draped over short dais the Commander's chair rested upon.  To a layman's eyes, the room would have appeared empty save for the Commander himself, but Yoruichi knew two more men stood on either corner of the room, blended in with the shadows.

 

She stepped forward, dropping down on one knee.  "Supreme Commander."

 

Though she knew he had felt her approaching a mile away, Sasagawa was polite enough to only look up once she had spoken, pretending he hadn't noticed her until now.  "First Office Shihōin, do come in," he said, gesturing toward the empty seat at the foot of the dais.

 

Private audiences such as today's were a common enough occurrence as of late that they had fallen into a steady pattern by now, usually spending the first few minutes of her visits discussing her latest assignments.  At their inception, their one-on-one meetings had been nothing but a source of discomfort for her.  Though a certain amount of preferential treatment was to be expected, given her lineage, it had taken her a long time to relax in her superior's presence and accept that despite his ulterior motives, Sasagawa's advice and tutelage could only be of benefit to her.

 

Yoruichi's tea had grown cold by the time they'd reached the last sheaf of paper in the dossier she had brought along.  She was still debating whether it had been wise to include the file in question at all, but her growing rapport with Commander had emboldened her to try and get some answers on a matter that had been troubling her for the past two years.

 

Sasagawa had to take but a glance at the list of names before Yoruichi saw the glint of recognition in his eyes.  Fingers stroking his chin, the Commander set his deep blue eyes upon her.  "And this list would be…?"

 

"The name of every Soul Reaper whose personal file has gone missing from our archives over the last two years," Yoruichi said, downing the last few dregs of cold tea from her cup.  "In every single case, I was informed they were relocated and given a place in your rehabilitation program."

 

"Indeed," Sasagawa said, busying himself with his own cup of tea.  He held her gaze for a few moments, and she knew he could see every unspoken word written there.  "Why don't you go ahead and ask your question, Officer Shihōin?" he said, smiling.

 

"Not a question.  More of an observation."

 

"I'm listening."

 

Yoruichi pursed her lips.  "I was under the impression that your program was meant to be put into effect for political prisoners," she said.  "That list not only contradicts this, but I have yet to hear more of this program other than the fact that it has been on trial mode for a while now."

 

Sasagawa nodded at her, setting his cup down on the table.  "And I'm afraid that will be the case for much longer," he said.  "The reason you have not heard more is because there  _isn't_  more to say.  The program has encountered obstacles along the way, and gaining enough political support to officially put it into effect has been difficult.  As callous as it may sound, I wanted to test the waters and see if a broader scope in… shall we say subjects, would garner more support.  So far, it has not."

 

"I… I see."

 

There was sympathy in his expression as he returned the list to her.  "I am well aware that the program is one of the reasons you wanted to join the Corrections Corps in the first place," Sasagawa said.  "But I feel that until any and all development issues are resolved, we are wasting one of our most talented operatives in a position that is beneath her."

 

"Sir?"

   

"In less than a month's time, there will be a shift in the ranks in the Intelligence Division," the Commander said.  "Which will leave an opening for head of the first platoon.  I would like to see you lead it."

 

The proposal took her by surprise.  Though she had never meant to spend more of her career than absolutely needed in the Corrections Corps, she hadn't expected to be offered a promotion so soon, at least not to a different unit of the Onmitsukidō.  "The Intelligence Division?"

 

"Indeed," Sasagawa said.  "Now that you have familiarized yourself with the administrative intricacies within a unit, I think it's time for you to move on.  Your patrol members have only complimentary things to say for your leadership skills, you display an acute understanding for the dynamics within a squad, and you have a talent for strategy.  All necessary requirements for a leader in the Intelligence Division.  What do you say?"

 

She couldn't deny that she had grown weary of her duties in the Corrections Corps as of late.  Once the novelty of leading a patrol had worn off, there had been very little to learn in that division that she didn't already know.  For a long while now, the only time she had ever felt truly challenged was during her sparring sessions with Kisuke.

 

"I would be honored, sir," she said, lowering her head into a deep inclination.

 

"Excellent," the Commander said.  "I would like you to return again next week to discuss the specifics.  I'm afraid I will be unavailable and so will Lieutenant Colonel Noguchi, but I imagine Lieutenant Shihōin will be up to the task of filling in."

 

Though she tried to hide it, her reaction was so automatic and involuntary, Sasagawa couldn't have missed it if he'd tried.

 

"Now, now, I saw that," he said, chuckling.  "That scowl.  Not too keen on working with your cousin, are you?"

 

"I— no, sir, I didn't mean—"

 

"There is no need to lie, you are not obligated to enjoy the company of all your colleagues," Sasagawa said.  "And don't think I haven't noticed.  Still, whatever… conflict there is between you, I am pleased to see it has yet to affect your job performance.  As it should be.  That having been said, I would still advise you to be careful."

 

"I have no intention of ever letting personal matters interfere with my work, sir," Yoruichi said.

 

Sasagawa's eyes took on an indecipherable expression as he stared at her over the rim of his teacup.  "That was not what I meant, Officer Shihōin."  

 

Sasagawa's words stayed with her all the way to the Rukongai.  As she waited in line for the dango stand in the brightly lit marketplace, she kept bringing the Commander's enigmatic gaze to mind.  The more she did, the more she became convinced he had been trying to issue a warning.   _For what?  Or whom?  Akira?_ Somewhere in between the tantalizing smell and the distracting sizzle of the grill, Yoruichi lost her train of thought.  There was little point in worrying over this without more information, and as she paid for the dango, she decided to give her mind a break for tonight.  At least until she asked for Kisuke's opinion on the matter.

 

Package of dango in hand, she took the path leading out of the marketplace and over to Kisuke's, where dinner courtesy of Asuka awaited.  Yoruichi pushed the front gate open, side-stepping the eager and ever-present kittens who had come running at the scent of food.  It didn't take them long to realize the take-away meal in her hands was nothing they would find appetizing, and they retreated back to the garden.

 

As Yoruichi crossed the winding stone steps, her eye caught one of the tabbies scampering over to the young maple tree in the back and climbing up its slim trunk.  Planted a mere three years ago, it was already thriving –most likely the only piece of flora in Kisuke's neglected garden that received daily care.  Smiling once at the well-chosen gift, Yoruichi turned away and trotted up the steps to open the front door.

 

She found Kisuke sitting by the fire pit, elbows braced against the tea table, forearms framing his face as his fingers dug through his hair.  He was staring at a letter that lay sealed before him with a wariness that implied it may well explode on him at any given moment.

 

When Yoruichi slipped her shoes off and approached him, he turned up to her, his face ashen.  "Please tell me you know what this is," he said, handing her the envelope.  His expression was an odd mix of terror and eagerness.

 

"Unless I'm mistaken, it's this newfangled invention.  The kids are calling it a  _letter_ , I think?"

 

There was a comical shift in his features, from worry to something akin to exasperation.

 

"All right, all right,  _okay_ ," she said with a chuckle, exchanging the package in her hands for the letter.  The envelope was made of especially fine paper, bearing a wax seal with a distinct, and immediately recognizable four-maple-leaf crest.  "That's my family's seal.  And my father's handwriting."

 

"I know."

 

Yoruichi glanced at him once for permission, which he readily gave with a casual flick of one hand.  She broke the seal, handing him the envelope back and flipped the letter open.  Its contents were brief and succinct, quite typical of her father's economical prose: Kisuke was being invited to the estate for a private audience with her father.  Although there were no further explanations given, Yoruichi felt confident she knew the  _precise_  reason for the invite.

 

"Took him long enough," she said, smiling.

 

"You knew about this?"

 

"Not exactly," she said, returning the letter so he could read it himself.  "But I had a feeling it was going to happen sooner or later.  To be honest, I expected it to be sooner."

 

Frowning, Kisuke skimmed the letter a couple of times before meeting her eyes again.  "You know what your father wants to see me for?"

 

With a grin, she took a seat opposite Kisuke by the table.  "I'd say he's just about done being stubborn."

 

If he was at all bothered by her cryptic comment, Kisuke didn't show it.  He read the letter a few more times, asking her no more questions, then placed it back in its envelope.  The impending meeting wasn't brought up again, nor was anything else discussed until Kisuke stepped over to the kitchen to fetch the pot of nikujaga Asuka had so generously dropped off earlier on.  Together they set up the table and dug in, famished after a long day.

 

"How did your meeting with the Commander go?" Kisuke asked, fishing the carrots out of the stew to deposit them over to her dish.

 

"Pretty well.  There was some talk about a promotion."

 

Pausing with his chopsticks mid-movement, Kisuke smiled at her.  "You're making Lieutenant already?  I'll drink to  _that_ ," he said, picking up his glass of sake.

 

Chuckling, Yoruichi arched an eyebrow at him.  "You'll drink to  _anything_.  And no, not Lieutenant quite yet," she said, taking in a bite off a potato.  "Sergeant.  There will be an opening soon in the Intelligence Corps."

 

"Leading the first platoon?"

 

Yoruichi nodded.

 

Kisuke's eyes narrowed slightly as he downed half his sake.  "You don't look excited."

 

"Oh, it's not that.  I'll actually welcome the change of pace; I think I've learned everything the Corrections Corps had to offer me." Which was true enough.  Starting off from a position admittedly inferior to her talents, learning the ropes, was a decision she would never regret.  If she aspired to one day lead the entire Corps, she wanted to be intimately familiar with all its operations.  Still, she was more than ready for a new challenge.

 

"But…?"

 

Yoruichi took a few more mouthfuls in before answering.  "Something else the Commander mentioned… about Akira, I think."

 

"What about him?"

 

"That's just it, I'm not ever sure it  _was_  about Akira," Yoruichi said, toying with a strand of hair as she rested his chin against her balled fist.  "But it certainly sounded like it.  All the Commander had to say was  _be careful_.  No specifics."

 

As though mustering up the courage to say something unpleasant, Kisuke emptied his glass and set it back down slowly.  "Okay, um… Can I say something?" he said.  "Without you getting mad?"

 

"I dunno;  _can_  you?"

 

Kisuke gave a gentle chuckle at that, then sobered up once more.  "Commander Sasagawa… I know you hold him in high esteem, and he seems to be a good mentor to you, but have you ever considered that… perhaps...?"

 

"He's using me?"

 

Her deadpan tone sent his eyebrows disappearing beneath the fringe of his hair.

 

"I swear, both you and Kūkaku must think I'm so naïve," Yoruichi said, sighing.  If she weren't positive both her friends had only her best interests at heart, she might've been genuinely angry, instead of only mildly annoyed.  "Yes  _of course_  he's using me and  _of course_  I'm well aware.  He bet on the wrong horse ages ago and now he's trying to correct his course; I'm not blind.  Or an idiot."

 

"I never implied that!" Kisuke said, holding up both hands.  His cheeks flushed in that tell-tale sign that always heralded his breaking into a nervous sweat.  "It's just... this doesn't bother you?" he said, his brow creasing.

 

In all fairness, she would have assumed as much were she in his position.  Under different circumstances, she would have been quite offended by the Commander's attitude.  But not in this instance.

 

"Sasagawa is a clever man," she said, shrugging.  "He knows his days as a Commander are numbered and he's trying to secure his future. He wouldn't be the first to do so; the former Commander has always had the new Commander's ear.  The only difference is that in the past, the title always stayed in the family."

 

Her answer seemed to clear up Kisuke's confusion at once.  Understanding dawning on him, Kisuke refilled his glass with sake, then hers with tea, his eyes taking on their usual curiosity.  "So what happens when the new Shihōin heir is chosen for succession?"

 

"Commander Sasagawa will be expected to formally hand in his resignation," she said.  "To the outside world it will look like just another retirement from active duty, and he will be properly compensated for the rest of his days.  Still, there have been many power struggles from former Commanders who refused to step down."

 

She had fully expected him to add to the discussion, but for once, Kisuke had nothing to say and simply listened to her explanation with piqued interest.  He was usually so well-versed in everything, including her own family's history, that she hadn't considered the clan's succession mechanics were likely as foreign to him as they were to anyone else. 

 

"Money or not, it's still a position of considerable power and I guess they didn't want to relinquish some of the political influence that comes with being Commander of the Onmitsukidō," Yoruichi said.  "I think my father may have been one of the few heirs in history who never put up a fight.  He knew he wasn't right for the position and abdicated in favor of his youngest brother." 

 

"That certainly sounds like him," Kisuke said.

 

"So you can see how the incumbent Commander might be inclined to forge a relationship with the upcoming Commander.  Sasagawa seems to think that should be me."

 

"And Akira knows it."

 

"The Commander hasn't exactly been subtle about it," Yoruichi said. 

 

He had always shown her preferential treatment, long before she had even joined the Onmitsukidō.  Originally, she had assumed he was merely being polite to the current head's heiress.  And yet his attitude during the last three years had led her to see that he was slowly but surely withdrawing his implicit support from one candidate to the other.

 

"You think he'll cause trouble?" Kisuke said.

 

Yoruichi was all but certain Akira would, in no small part due to the Commander's actions.  "Probably," she said, sighing.  "Anyway, it's still too early to be even talking about succession." 

 

Akira's coming of age was still fifteen years away, by which point she assumed a final decision would be made by the clan elders.  With no-one other than herself in the running, it wouldn't be out of the question for the clan to wait until her own coming of age, though she suspected Akira would not wish to wait the extra ten years.  Most likely, he would push for a vote as early as possible.

 

"But to answer your question," Yoruichi went on.  "No, it doesn't bother me that the Commander is trying to get into my good graces.  He's very well-liked and I could learn a great deal from him.  I'm using him, too."

 

* * *

 

 

**AUGUST 12 TH, 1956 A.D., URAHARA SHOP, KARAKURA TOWN, JAPAN **

 

One by one, the smoke rings floated up, slowly expanding, little ghostly spirals against the black, spangled night sky.  Leaning back against the window frame, Kisuke watched them rise until they were caught up in the cool breeze and dissolved into nothingness.

 

Seventy days, four hours, sixteen minutes and forty two seconds, give or take.

 

He wondered if his existence would now forever revolve around her continued absence, if he was doomed to spend every night by the window, listless, counting the days and seconds since she had left, hoping against all hope that she might one day return.

 

He had never revealed to her how many sleepless nights he'd spent in bed in the past, terrified her wandering steps would one day lead her back to Soul Society, to her family and everything she'd left behind.  He had never revealed to her that part of him had always hoped they would. 

 

The universe was, as he knew all too well, not without a sense of irony.

 

Running a hand through his hair, Kisuke let out a sigh and pondered the bottle of sake in his hand, pipe stuck between his teeth.   _Almost empty._ He could try going to sleep, or he could stumble downstairs and refresh his dwindling supply.  Option number one seemed like the most sensible one.  Then again, he doubted he would be able to quiet his mind long enough to relax and fall asleep.  Alcohol might at least help in that endeavor.

 

 _Option number two it is,_  he thought, slipping off the ledge and up to his feet.  He wavered on the spot for a moment, the slight buzz he'd been lovingly nurturing for the past couple of hours working its magic on his sense of balance.   _Excellent.  Only half a bottle away from a stup—_

 

The flash of familiar spiritual signature in the air had been brief, but unmistakable, even in his current state.  Dropping the empty bottle on the floor, Kisuke leaned out of the window and frowned at the sky in concentration.  With each passing second, the already faint signal of spiritual pressure in the air weakened, making the trail harder to follow; if he meant to track it, now would be the time to set out.

 

Biting down on his cheek, Kisuke spent all of two seconds weighing his options.   _Oh screw it; what's the worst that could happen?_

 

 _A lot,_  the higher mental functions that had yet to be inhibited by alcohol shot back at him.  He appeased them by grabbing the slim black cloak by the wall hanger, and with a leap, he was off, climbing high above the rooftops.  Throwing the cloak on, he became one with the shadows, his presence masked from all senses, and followed the trail.

 

All around him, the flickering essences of Hollows lit up and almost instantly died out like candles in the wind.  Karakura Town was slowly but steadily becoming a sizeable hub of spiritual sensitivity; he had done his fair share of slaying these past few years whenever Soul Society's forces were not enough, but it seemed he was no longer alone in this task.

 

And for all his misgivings about whether or not it was wise to engage, the sight of Hirako leaping out of a Hollow's path with grace brought a broad smile on his face. 

 

Kisuke came to a rest on the rooftop nearest the ongoing battle and took a seat by the edge, grinning.  Legs folded carefully beneath the cloak, he dared to pull the hood back just a fraction, just in time to catch Hirako curse at the close swipe that tore the sleeve of his red, checkered shirt.  He had to wonder just how Hirako could even move in this getup, stylish though it was: fitted shirt, pale brown cardigan and trousers to match.  Not to mention the hat.  But then again, he couldn't deny that an outfit just wasn't really complete without a hat.

 

Hirako seemed to have reached the same conclusion, and instead of endangering his wardrobe more than he had to, he merely directed his hand toward the Hollow.  Without making eye-contact, still too busy pouting over his ruined shirt, he spoke the incantation in monotone.  "Hadō number 63, Raikōhō."

 

A sphere of blinding yellow light bloomed out of his open-faced palm. Like lightning, it hissed and crackled, erupting into a stream of energy that poured forth, vaporizing the Hollow on the spot before the poor creature could even register pain.

 

He couldn't help it; he clapped.

 

Hirako started at the sudden, invasive sound, head whipping over his shoulder as he tried to locate the source.

 

Kisuke waited for the opportune moment, and just as Hirako turned in his direction, he pulled back his hood and grinned at him.  "Evening."

 

"GEH!"  Clutching his heart, Hirako glared at him through wide, saucer-like eyes, panting.  "Fuck's sake, ya blockhead; how long have you been sitting there?"

 

"A couple of minutes," Kisuke said, as Hirako floated over to him, sheathing Sakanade.  "I see you haven't lost your touch."

 

Still half-heartedly glaring daggers at him, Hirako stood before him, arms folded.  "Neither have you," he said.  "You look—" Squinting, Hirako bent forward, giving him the one-over.  "Are ya drunk, or just hot under that thing?"

 

Having been witness –and accomplice- to most of his  _truly_  intoxicated moments, Hirako had no trouble identifying the early signs.

 

"Not drunk," Kisuke said, and it was the honest truth.  "But I've had a few."

 

"Well, I'd like ta say that explains all…  _this_ ," Hirako said, gesturing vaguely at him.  "But ya don't really need the booze to be an ass."  His posture was still quite rigid and he'd yet to come any closer, but there was warmth in his eyes, and the insult didn't feel or sound like one at all.

 

"It seems you and your comrades are on top of things," Kisuke said, glancing past Hirako's shoulder into the distance.

 

"Can ya really feel them?  We've been very careful about cloaking our presence."

 

"I felt you for a spell a few minutes ago," Kisuke said.  "The rest, I extrapolated."

 

"Ahh, I  _knew_  I slipped up for a sec," Hirako said, pushing the brim of his hat back.  "So… how ya been, Kisuke?"

 

"Thriving, as you can see."

 

"Tessai and Yoruichi all right?"

 

 _Oh, **super**.  Tessai is sick to death of watching me mope about and I haven't the faintest where Yoruichi even is._   Kisuke gave a cursory nod, starting to feel his artificial smile crack around the edges.  "I've been thinking about you, actually.  And how to contact you," he said, eager to change the subject.  "I have some… news."

 

Hirako's eyebrows chased the edge of his flaxen fringe.  "Sound like the sitting down type of news."

 

"It's not pleasant, I'm afraid," Kisuke said, now fully allowing his smile to falter. 

 

By the time he was done repeating what Kotsubaki had told him two months ago, Hirako had taken a seat beside him, his expression grim.  "Shit."

 

"Indeed."

 

Letting out a sigh, Hirako dug into his pocket and withdrew a small, slim carton.  "Want a smoke?" he said, holding the pack out before him.

 

Being more partial to the pipe, he had never tried a cigarette before, even though they were a regular stock item at the shop.  But how different could it be, really?  He accepted Hirako's offer, and the two of them sat in silence for a few moments, a small, grey cloud hovering above their heads.

 

"Yoruichi knew 'em pretty well, didn't she?" Hirako said.

 

Kisuke nodded.  "She did.  Lieutenant Shiba, at least."

 

"How d'she take it?"

 

"…Not well."   _Understatement of the century._

 

"Well… Tell her from me not to—" Hirako said, rubbing his temple with his free hand.  "I mean, I know she already hated Aizen just as much as we all do, but don't let her get all… consumed by it, yeah?  Torture herself over what mighta been, what she mighta done if she were there… Doesn't really lead anywhere.  Trust me on this."

 

"Hm.  Well… I'm not so sure about that myself."

 

Hirako flicked the cigarette stub away.  Kisuke watched the still glowing ember spiral down into the darkness, and it wasn't until Hirako spoke that he realized his comment had left the man downright affronted.  "You sayin' Yoruichi was responsible—?"

 

"Of  _course_  not," Kisuke hurried to say, nearly choking on his drag of smoke.  "How could she be?"

 

"Then what are you—?" Hirako came to what appeared to be a sudden realization, one that caused him to roll his eyes at Kisuke.  "Oh, for the love of— Not this shit again."

 

Kisuke stared at him questioningly.

 

"Lemme guess," Hirako said, and he leaned back, supporting his weight against his outstretched arms.  "The moment ya heard about this you started goin'  _on_  and  _on_  about how you were gonna make this right and how you were gonna  _fix_  it," he said, head bobbing from side to side in tedium.

 

It was a good thing his own cigarette had already gone out, otherwise it might've burned him as he held it slack between his fingers, gaping at Hirako.

 

"You didn't say any o' that crap to Yoruichi, didja?"

 

"I…"

 

Letting out a long drawn out groan, Hirako pushed himself upright again.  "For fuck's sake, Kisuke, you need to  _stop doin' this_!"

 

"Doing  _what_?"

 

"Feelin' responsible for every little thing that has the most remote connection to Aizen!"

 

Kisuke looked away, a knot forming on his forehead.  He hadn't deluded himself into thinking that he was being subtle about it, not now nor in the past.  Yet he'd always assumed everyone expected him to at the very least acknowledge all the ways in which he'd failed them. 

 

Hirako sighed, his voice growing a touch softer.  "Look, it's… it's not that people don't appreciate yer efforts or anything," he said.  "We do, believe me.  But the fact that you're about the only person who could outsmart that asshole doesn't mean that everyone's expecting you to.  Ya don't hafta put yer whole life on hold until ya get even with Aizen.  If you ever get to do it, that's fine, we'll all be right there with ya, but if you don't… no-one's gonna think any less of ya."

 

 _They should,_  he thought, his frown deepening.  It was the  _one_  damn thing he had always been praised for, the  _one_  thing that made him tolerable despite all the other, crasser, more insufferable parts of him.  The  _one_  thing he had always been proud of: his mind. 

 

And he had failed to rise up to the occasion the only time that had truly mattered.

 

"She was… just so  _devastated_ ," he said, his voice a hushed whisper as he stared at the silent city ahead, unseeing.  The memory of Yoruichi's face falling at the news, the emptiness in her eyes, the resignation in her voice as she excused herself and headed upstairs, never to reemerge from the bedroom.  "I— I didn't know what to say or do—"

 

"Did it ever occur to you to just  _listen_?"

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Kisuke's gaze sought Hirako.  Something about the tone of his voice had suggested he spoke from experience, rather than simply offering advice.

 

"You did it to me, too, y'know," Hirako said, staring at his knees.  "When we met up after— After we left."

 

Kisuke understood this to mean after their unamicable separation a decade ago.  Hirako was the only one of the eight he had seen again a couple of days later, and after he had been briefed in on their intel from Osaka, Kisuke had never seen him again until tonight.  

 

"Talkin' about how  _you_  miscalculated, and how  _you_  felt terrible—" Hirako went on.

 

"But… How can I  _not_  feel resp—?"

 

"Because yer not!" Hirako insisted, and just as Kisuke opened his mouth to argue, he cut him off, holding up a hand.  "Yeah, yeah, I know, yer a friggin' genius so you feel if  _anyone_  coulda seen it, it shoulda been you."

 

Kisuke pursed his lips, trying not to let his mounting frustration lead him to say something he might regret.  But for all the sarcasm in Hirako's tone, that was the simple, uncomfortable truth, wasn't it?  There wasn't a single person in Soul Society who could have seen through Aizen other than himself.

 

Despite his efforts to keep his thoughts to himself, they must've been all too apparent in his expression, as Hirako rolled his eyes at him.  "I'm not offended ya think yer smarter than anyone else, ya moron, you  _are_ ," he said.  "That's not the point here."

 

"Then what the hell  _is_  the point?" Kisuke said, throwing his arms up in exasperation.

 

"It wasn't yer damn job to keep an eye on Aizen!"

 

"But—"

 

"IT WAS  _MY_  JOB!"

 

Hirako's outburst was followed by a pregnant, ringing silence.  Breathless, Hirako tore his gaze away to stare at his knees again.  He looked shaken at his own words, but at the same time, it was as though an invisible weight had lifted off his shoulders.  Kisuke had to wonder just how long he'd been waiting to voice that particular thought out loud.

 

"Hirako…" he said.  "No-one—"

 

"Blames me?"  Hirako said, a wry grin on his lips.  "Yeah, I know.  Took me a  _long_  time to come to terms with it, too.  So why the hell can't you?"

 

Sighing, Kisuke ran a hand through his hair and pondered the question.  It was a perfectly legitimate one, but Kisuke had no answer for Hirako, not even after more than five decades of mulling it over. 

 

"Thing is, Kisuke," Hirako said.  "You didn't spend almost every waking hour with that psycho, but I did.   _I_  was his superior.  And I know you were tryina make me feel better by taking the blame yerself, but dammit, I  _wanted_  the blame!"

 

They held each other's gaze for a moment, Kisuke being at a loss of what to say, but it seemed Hirako wasn't done just yet.

 

"I ain't gonna sit and wallow about what I coulda done differently," he said.  "But back then… back then I needed that.  I needed to talk about all the crap I'd done wrong and you just—" Hirako clenched his jaw, scowl deepening.  Whether he was trying to soften an oncoming blow, or simply find the right words to phrase his thoughts, Kisuke didn't know.  "By shouldering the blame ya made the situation all about  _you_  and how  _you_  had failed, when I needed to talk about my own failures, get it out in the open."

 

Stunned at the revelation, Kisuke could only sit there, slack-jawed.  Too consumed with his own guilt, he had been quick to accept blame early and openly, terrified that if he didn't, someone else would inevitably voice their resentment, given enough time.  By heading them off, he could at least feel some relief in displaying self-awareness.  

 

It had never,  _not once_ , occurred to him to blame Hirako for the entire Aizen debacle, not even privately.  It had also never occurred to him that perhaps this was precisely what Hirako might need.

 

"I'm sorry," was all he could say.

 

Hirako waved one hand dismissively.  "Like I said, I know yer heart was in the right place and all, I'm not mad," he said.  "But you gotta stop tryin' ta  _fix_  everything.  Some things just can't be fixed.  Ya think Kaien's gonna magically come alive if ya killed Aizen today?  Yoruichi didn't need ya to come sweepin' in and promise to make it all better, she probably wanted you to just… let her talk, let her vent.  She doesn't blame ya."

 

Kisuke pressed his hands against his mouth, fingers steepled.  If he was being entirely honest with himself, it was Yoruichi's condemnation he had always feared the most.  He could have handled being blamed by any one of them, even Tessai, even Hirako, but from her?  The words would've cut with the force of a thousand knives.  How could she  _not_  resent him, even a little?  How could she  _not_  be wishing she hadn't sacrificed everything important about her life, every achievement, every friend, every family member, in order to save someone who—

 

 _Someone who doesn't even have the decency to let her speak her mind openly._    

 

"See?  See this?" Hirako said, sighing.  "We're  _still_  ramblin' on about you and yer damn guilt.  S'what I was talkin' about."  Leaning forward, elbows resting upon his knees, he sought Kisuke's eye.  "No-one blames you.  And no-one blames me; our friends are awesome that way.  So that's that.  Go back home and talk to Yoruichi, will ya?"

 

Jaw tight, Kisuke willed his trembling throat to quiet down, and he spoke the words he hadn't had the courage to admit even to himself in private.  "She left."

 

"Well then whenever she comes back from her walk or wherever it is she went."   

 

"I mean she left for good," Kisuke said.  "I think."

 

Even at their drunkest, most honest, he and Hirako had never spoken openly about their innermost fears or desires.  A few cryptic words, perhaps, when either of them was feeling particularly low.  Understanding each other without the need to voice every errant thought was a cornerstone of their relationship.  Kisuke had always known how Hirako fretted over Aizen, how he felt about Hiyori, and Hirako had always known both the best and the worst of him.  Kisuke had never expected to be fortunate enough to find this level of understanding from anyone other than Yoruichi, and Hirako… well, Hirako had been the one person he had been able to count upon to keep the secrets he couldn't bring himself to tell Yoruichi, back then.

 

Still, despite their shared preference of not oversharing, Kisuke was no stranger to Hirako's advice, or even words of comfort.  Which was why his friend's next words were so unexpected.

 

"Friggin'  _drama queen_ ," Hirako said, getting up to his feet and stretching.  "Go home, Kisuke.  And stop drinkin', it's makin' ya weepy and dullin' yer senses."

 

Kisuke had barely even had the time to feel hurt over Hirako's cool dismissal; the comment about his dulled senses had been a little  _too_  pointed, and coupled with Hirako's smirk, it made Kisuke raise a questioning eyebrow.

 

Hirako, however, didn't seem to be in a clarifying mood.  He rested Sakanade over his shoulder, his smirk turning into a soft smile.  "I'll see ya around."

 

"I— Yes.  Take care, Hirako."

 

"You, too.  And thanks for the heads up."  With a playful salute, Hirako turned his heel and Flashed away.

 

Kisuke stared at the empty air Hirako had previously occupied far longer than he cared to admit.  Leaving the shop, even for such a brief outing had felt good, a change of pace from his latest routine of sleepwalking through the day in a state of permanent gloom. 

 

Seeing Hirako again had been just as much a blessing as it was a curse; he was now palpably aware of exactly how much he'd missed him, and Hiyori and the rest of their group. Of how much he'd missed talking to a friend.  His daily interactions with Tessai were nothing like they had been, now tainted with the unspoken, unacknowledged event of Yoruichi's possibly permanent departure.

 

But above all, he was painfully reminded of the one person he wished to see and speak to the most.  Not that she'd ever left his mind to begin with.  Before tonight, however, he'd at least held on to the comfort that he'd driven her away for her own good.  Hirako's words had opened his eyes to the fact that he'd somehow managed to screw things up yet another time before their parting.

 

The bottle of sake he'd been planning to open before his encounter with Hirako felt more inviting than ever.

 

In a daze, he made his way back to the shop, slipping in through the open window to his bedroom.  Weary and numb, he pushed his hood back and was in the middle of unfastening the cloak, when his eyes fell upon the bed and his entire body froze on the spot.    

 

_"And stop drinkin', it's makin' ya weepy and dullin' yer senses."_

 

Sitting by the edge of the bed, clad in his – _her_ \- blue yukata was Yoruichi, wrists locked between her knees.  As his lips parted at the sight, their eyes met, and Kisuke was startled to see in hers a reflection of the misery that had plagued him for seventy days, five hours and three minutes.  Give or take.

 

Yoruichi stood up, tucking her loose hair behind her ears, and that simple, familiar gesture was more than enough to unlock his limbs and send him rushing forward.

 

He crashed into her, his hands clawing at her with the ferocity of a man who was terrified she was but an apparition, a litany of apologies spilling out of his lips – _"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please—"_  whenever they weren't sealed against hers, but it wasn't long before Hirako's earlier words reached the miniscule part of his mind that wasn't singing with joy at her presence, and he stopped talking at long last. 

 

And in the early morning hours, when the world was veiled in blue and her soft voice broke the long silence, when she laid her heart out bare while she spoke of her friend, of the Kaien  _she_  had known, he wrapped his arms around her and listened. 

 

* * *

 

 

**DECEMBER 25 TH, 125 B.H.I., SHIHŌIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS**

 

It looked different, somehow.

 

Intellectually, Kisuke knew the White Gate of the Shihōin Clan ancestral castle hadn't changed in millennia, much less in the nearly four years since he'd last crossed it.  Standing there, however, before the portcullis, looking up at it, Kisuke felt small in its presence. 

 

The last time he had heard the creak of the pulley being drawn, the gate had snapped shut behind him with such a finality that a future return had seemed ludicrous.  And yet there he was, the letter bearing Lord Shihōin's crest burning in his pocket, his heart racing as the gate was drawn up from within, granting him entry.  Thanking the guards, Kisuke felt a very strong sense of déjà vu as he crossed the bridge over the moat and made his way toward the estate.  For many years, this had been his routine every fortnight on the dot, when he would meet up with Lord Shihōin for their game of shōgi.  This was the first time he would ever be making the trip as a mere visitor, and not as one of the Lord's faithful subjects.   

 

Like stepping into a half-remembered dream, he hiked up the familiar path through the grounds in a daze, returning the polite smiles and respectful head inclinations of the staff, of people he had known since childhood.  Yet at the same time, there was a distinct tightness in the pit of his stomach, an awareness that he no longer belonged there, and perhaps never truly had.

 

Despite the clear signs that the staff had been alerted to his visit, he was still only allowed to enter the estate with an escort.  The pair of guards allowed him to lead the way up the stairwell, keeping a respectful distance.  They remained silent and impassive for the duration of the walk, save to give him an odd look when sheer muscle memory led him to a brief stop at the residential wing on the fifth floor.  Shaking his head, Kisuke gave one quick, wistful glance down the corridor, toward the apartment he had once shared with his mother, then continued up the stairs.   

 

He wished the guards would have given him a moment to collect his thoughts once they reached their destination.  Before he could object, one of them gave a discreet rap at the door to Lord Shihōin's study, and Kisuke now had all of a few seconds to mentally prepare for the meeting. 

 

Then again, he was willing to bet even a few hours wouldn't have been enough.

 

At the sound of Lord Shihōin's voice, Kisuke took a deep breath in and slid the door open.  Not meeting his former mentor's eye, he kept his gaze to the floor as he stepped forward, following the path of the luxurious tatami mats all the way to the desk.

 

All the while, he could feel the tension in the Lord Shihōin's immense spiritual pressure.  To his great surprise, Kisuke found that he no longer felt strain in his presence, that ghostly sensation of being forced into submission by a force that, for all of Kisuke's life until now, had been far vaster than his own.     

 

Still, even with that small boost of confidence, he dared not lift his gaze as he dropped to his knees and into a deep bow.  "My Lord Shihōin."

 

"Kisuke," he said, and in his peripheral vision, Kisuke saw that he was being given a signal to rise.  "It has been quite a while.  You seem well."

 

Standing up to full height, Kisuke slowly lifted his eyes to look upon Lord Shihōin.  "I am, Sir," he said.  "I was honored to receive your invitation, and hope I find you both in good health and spirits."

 

Lord Shihōin glanced at his desk and the two seats on opposite sides, a hesitant look in his eyes.  He seemed to be debating whether or not to offer him a seat, and Kisuke understood why all too well: with so many unresolved issues between them, even the simple act of being in the same room was borderline unbearable.  The older man's eyes swept over to the shōgi board by the other side of the room, then flitted back to Kisuke.

 

"How about a game?" he said.

 

Kisuke was mentally transported back to their first private meeting, when he had been but a nervous little boy, standing in awe at the presence of greatness.   _The more things change…_   "Of course, sir."

 

Cup of tea in hand, sitting in his usual spot across Lord Shihōin with the shōgi board between them, Kisuke hoped that the incoming discussion would be far easier to deal with.  To his credit, Lord Shihōin said nothing until the servants had vacated the room and the two of them began the process of setting up the board.  Perhaps the situation was almost as nerve-wracking for him as it was for Kisuke himself.

 

"Congratulations on your transfer," Lord Shihōin said, breaking the silence at long last.

 

"Thank you, Sir."

 

"Why the Fourth Division?"

 

 _Because they offered.  Because I couldn't bear to look Matsuo in the eye anymore.  Because it's… better that way._   "I spent the last three years in the battlefield," Kisuke said.  "It was an invaluable experience, but it left me woefully behind on my spellwork.  Joining the Fourth Division felt like the best opportunity to ameliorate that."   

 

"I was under the impression a transfer was usually accompanied by a promotion."

 

Kisuke had the distinct feeling that if he'd been offered a promotion on top of being allowed to change Divisions, Matsuo might have hunted him down herself and killed him.  "Usually, yes.  But I was glad for the change of pace either way."

 

I might have been a trick of the light, but Kisuke could have sworn Lord Shihōin looked personally insulted as he spoke his next words.  "Frankly, I would have expected Captain Unohana to offer you the position of Third Seat," he said.  "There was ample time between April and September for you to gain the necessary experience needed.  Your spellwork is already well beyond what the position required."

 

Asking how exactly he was privy to such detailed information would have been a childish question.  Lord Shihōin had ways of knowing everything that happened within the Thirteen Divisions.  Or rather, the entirety of the Court. 

 

"Still, I suppose Fifth Seat is quite the achievement for someone of your age," Lord Shihōin said.  There was no need for him to say more, Kisuke was certain he already knew the implicit words:  _But not for someone trained under the Shihōin roof._

 

They spoke no more of the Thirteen Divisions.  In fact, they spoke of nothing for a long time, settling into the game in silence.  Kisuke was beginning to think Lord Shihōin had invited him over for no reason other than to remark on his less than impressive career –or lack thereof- when the man opened up a new subject. 

 

"I had the distinct pleasure of examining an interesting invention a few months ago," he said.  "The researchers over at the Onmitsukidō Development Division called it a  _Tenshintai_."

 

Kisuke's hand froze above his Dragon King, and he could feel Lord Shihōin's eyes on him.  This, at long last, explained a number of things about today's bizarre invitation.  The reason behind it, as well as Yoruichi's surprise it had taken her father that long, for Kisuke had no doubt Lord Shihōin had spent those past few months trying to reverse-engineer the Tenshintai in order to understand it.  Pulling his hand back, Kisuke met the older man's eye. 

 

"It is a marvelous artifact, meant to materialize the spirit within a Soul Cutter instantly," Lord Shihōin said.  "Everything about it, from the concept, to the design, to the assembly is… elegant.  Even the very choice in materials displays a level of creativity and care that is rarely seen, even in my circle.  And I know for a fact that not a single man or woman in that team is capable of producing such an artifact."

 

He didn't know whether Lord Shihōin was expecting some sort of reaction, or an explanation even, but Kisuke gave neither.  He simply folded his hands on his lap, waiting for Lord Shihōin's speech to come to an end.

 

"I should note here that Yoruichi did not betray your trust," Lord Shihōin said.  "I've seen enough of your work to recognize it on sight."

 

"I never thought she did," Kisuke said.  

 

Lord Shihōin gave him an inscrutable look, folding his arms before his chest.  He said nothing for a few moments, until he eventually let out a sigh and placed his hands on his knees.  "All right, I must know: what type of material did you use?  It feels familiar and yet it is not, there is nothing in the market like it."

 

Kisuke let out a chuckle.  "I modified the base material of a gigai," he said.  "The idea is that instead of centering upon and mimicking the body's particles—"

 

"It mimics the particles that make up the Soul Cutter," Lord Shihōin said, his lips parting.  Letting out a scoff, he shook his head.  "I cannot believe no-one ever thought of this before," he said, reaching for his cup of tea.  "It's so…  _simple_."

 

To anyone else, the word might have sounded like an insult, but Kisuke understood what Lord Shihōin was trying to say perfectly.  For as long as he'd known the man, he had always valued and insisted on elegance, on the brilliance of simplicity in any design.  Calling an invention  _simple_  was his highest praise, and it was that more than any of the earlier praise that made Kisuke's heart swell.

 

Whatever Lord Shihōin's endgame was in regards to this meeting, whether he was manipulating Kisuke's keen desire to please him or not, Kisuke found that he didn't care.  He knew for a fact that he had managed the one thing he had been striving for since childhood: impress Lord Shihōin.  And that was more than enough.

 

"So… You have achieved bankai, then?" Lord Shihōin asked.  Upon sight of Kisuke's raised eyebrows, he could only give him a mildly disparaging look.  "Why else would you have built the Tenshintai if not to speed up the process?"

 

 _Why, indeed._ "I have, sir."

 

"How long did it take you?"

 

Perhaps he should have waited for Lord Shihōin to place his cup down before speaking, but part of him couldn't help it.  "Three days."

 

Lord Shihōin choked on his sip, his face quickly turning the color of his estate's famous maple leaves.  With a shaking hand, he set down his teacup and reached for some water instead, waving off Kisuke's exclamations of concern.  He cleared his throat loudly and took a few, steadying breaths, glancing down at the shōgi board once more.  Kisuke assumed the game would continue in silence, but instead of making a new move, Lord Shihōin shifted his eyes toward the golden clock on the cabinet by the door.

 

Kisuke had witnessed this display countless times in the past, and understood its meaning at once: his audience with Lord Shihōin was over.  Though he hadn't expected to spend much longer in the Lord's study, Kisuke couldn't help but feel a little disappointed all the same.  Was this all the meeting was meant to amount to?  Satisfying Lord Shihōin's curiosity over the Tenshintai?

 

"Well then…" the older man said.  "We shall continue our game in a fortnight, as always."

 

Even though he could only claim the remotest connection to nobility (and not even by name any longer), Kisuke had been brought up amongst nobility of the highest order.  Loss of control over one's emotions, even something as innocuous as staring, were actions one simply did not indulge in, especially in such illustrious company.  And yet Kisuke could have no more stopped himself from gawking at Lord Shihōin than he could stop the sun from rising in the east.

 

Lord Shihōin himself was the picture of serenity.  Curiously enough, he didn't even react to Kisuke's expression, as though he had been expecting it.  "In the meantime, there is a new project starting out in the Vault this week," he said.  "I expect you to adjust your schedule accordingly to join the development team."

 

Kisuke willed himself to close his parted mouth out of fear that he might legitimately scream; whether in joy or frustration, he honestly didn't know.  Part of him was elated that he was no longer persona non-grata in the Shihōin clan, but the smaller, pettier side, the side that held all the little morsels of anger, resentment, pride, was not quite so easily placated.  After more than three years of being shunned, after the treatment he'd received the last time he had set foot in the castle, after all the bitter words that had been said… Was he now simply expected to bow his head and be grateful? 

 

It was the sensible thing to do, of course.  Especially considering the fact that the last time he had spoken to Lord Shihōin face-to-face, he had chosen the road exactly opposite of sensibility.  But for all the resistance his pride put up, his traitorous heart was precisely that: grateful. 

 

If nothing else, he could take comfort in the knowledge that Lord Shihōin had extended his offer without making any more demands, at least for the time being.  He seemed to have accepted Kisuke's choices regarding his career in the Thirteen Divisions, and in retrospect, his previous comments now felt like they had been no more than genuine conversation instead of criticism.

 

In the end, it all came down to one simple fact: for almost a full year now, he had done little more than what he was  _expected_  to do.  And as much as it stung to admit, for once, what was expected of him and what he truly wanted happened to coincide.  He couldn't have found it in him to deny Lord Shihōin's offer even if there had been no repercussions whatsoever.

 

"Yes, sir.  Of course, sir," Kisuke said.

 

He expected to be asked to show himself out, but Lord Shihōin surprised him by declaring there was one more detail to take care of before Kisuke left the estate: meeting the development team. 

 

Kisuke didn't know quite how to feel about the casual conversation that took place as they descended the stairwell together.  As welcome as it was, being back on speaking terms with his mentor was a jarring shift that would take time to get used to once again.  He wasn't naïve enough to expect any lengthy discussions pertaining to the past, but he did wonder whether it would ever be acknowledged, even in passing.

 

They had just reached the ground floor when a servant approached them, bowing before Lord Shihōin.  "Pardon the interruption, my Lord," she said.  "I have been asked to inform you that your presence is requested in the east wing by councilman Akiyama."

 

Lord Shihōin paused at the foot of the stairs.  "Is this urgent?  I am running late as it is."

 

"I do not know, my Lord, I have only been sent to deliver the message."

 

Pursing his lips, Lord Shihōin let out a discreet sigh and took a moment to make up his mind.  "I suppose his Honor Nomura will not mind a small delay… Have my driver be on standby," he said, then turned to Kisuke.  "Kisuke, I shall ask for your patience for a few moments, this shouldn't take long."

 

"Sir, if you wish to reschedule, I would be more than happy—"

 

"No, no, I have a full schedule to adhere to the following days," Lord Shihōin said.  "I may not have time later in the week, and I wish to have this taken care of today.  I will send for you to meet me down at the Vault in a few minutes."  

 

Kisuke watched with a fond smile as Lord Shihōin sped down the corridor toward the east wing of the estate.  The efficiency, the strict schedule, the rare glimpses of his mentor rushing from one meeting to the next…  Even the Fourth Division's Relief Station had nothing on the controlled chaos that was daily life in the Shihōin compound.  

 

As he sat idle, workmen weaved across the corridor, carrying a shipment of crates from the courtyard to the basement.  Kisuke's eyes fell on the crest that adorned every single crate and recognized it at once as the emblem of the Shiba Clan.

 

His curiosity piqued, he glanced down the stairway, then back to the direction Lord Shihōin had disappeared to.  Figuring he had a few minutes to spare, Kisuke hurried down the stairs to the basement, only to be greeted by the sight of Shiba Kūkaku.   _Ahh, of course… Barely a week till the 31st._ Wrapped up in a long, thick traveling cloak, she was surrounded by stacks of the same crates Kisuke had just seen, keeping an eye on the whole process.  All around her, workmen filed in and out of the basement, making room for her shipment in between the long rows of assorted stored goods.   

 

As soon as she spotted him, Kūkaku broke into a surprised smile and waved at him.  Kisuke ambled over to her, an identical smile on his lips.

 

"Well, well, well…" Kūkaku said, resting one elbow against a tall stack of crates that came up to her waist.  "Look who's out of the doghouse at long last."

 

"Miss Shiba," Kisuke said, inclining his head at her.

 

" _Mister_  Urahara," she said, returning the gesture with a grin.  "How ya been, kiddo?"

 

"Can't complain.  And you?"

 

"Same old same old," Kūkaku said.  "What's this I'm hearing from Yoruichi?  You run with the bandage crowd now?"

 

Kisuke laughed at her choice of words.  "I do."

 

"Hmmm… never pegged you for the healer type."

 

"I'm just full of surprises," Kisuke said, motioning toward the shipment next to her.  "Here for your fireworks delivery?"

 

"Indeed I am," Kūkaku said, slapping his hand away when he tried to open the top lid of one of the crates.  "Ah-ah-ah!  No touchy.  I don't want your grubby little paws all over my masterpiece; you'll just sneak one into your pocket and try to make a run for it."

 

"That happened  _once,_ and it was a misunder—"

 

"And once was more than enough.  You'll have to wait till the grand unveiling, like everyone else."

 

"I'm not quite so certain I'll be invited," Kisuke said.  Despite what Lord Shihōin had said earlier, when implying their professional relationship was back to its earlier state, Kisuke made no assumptions about what this meant in regards to their personal relationship.  Hoping to join the festivities for the Founder's Day celebration so soon after their reconciliation might be pushing the envelope a little.  "So unless Lord Shihōin specifically mentions this—"

 

"Old man Shihōin is around?" Kūkaku said, arching both eyebrows.  "I thought he wasn't going to be at the estate all morning.  At least that's what he told me when we last spoke."

 

That explained Lord Shihōin's earlier comment about making  _his Honor Nomura_  wait for him.  "I think he may have rescheduled," Kisuke said.  "He did seem to be in a rush to leave after our talk."    

 

"Awwwww—" Kūkaku reached out to pinch his cheek, grinning broadly.  "—Did his lordship reschedule an important meeting  _just_  so he could have a heart-to-heart with lil' old you?  That's touching."

 

Kisuke pushed her hand away gently, feeling his neck and ears growing warmer.  "I'm  _quite_  certain that's not the case at all."

 

Chuckling, Kūkaku pulled away.  "So what are you hanging around for?  Waiting for Yoruichi?"

 

"No, just waiting for Lord Shihōin to return, we— Wait, Yoruichi is here?"

 

"Yeah, wandering around somewhere with Kirinji.  Maybe even sneaking in a Shunpo lesson for old time's sake, who knows?" Kūkaku said. 

 

Their conversation was cut short when Kisuke heard a vaguely familiar voice call his name from the direction of the stairwell.  One of the estate servants stood by the threshold, which most likely meant that Lord Shihōin had returned and was waiting for him at the Vault.

 

"I'm afraid I have to run," Kisuke said, turning to Kūkaku.  "Will you still be here in a few minutes?"

 

"Probably not, gotta go see Kirinji off after this," Kūkaku said.  "Tell Old man Shihōin I send my regards."

 

"Will do," Kisuke said, giving her a parting smile and a wave before turning his heel.

 

He was almost mid-way up the steps when he sensed it, the odd droplet of raw, volatile energy hitting the air.  He swiveled around, feeling time grinding down to a near halt as he watched Kūkaku lift the lid of the crate nearest to her.  There was no time to reflect upon what it was he had just sensed; it was instinct more than anything that fueled his body as he fell into a Flash Step, his hand reaching for Benihime without conscious thought entering into the equation.

 

He thought he might have shouted a warning, but it was futile either way.  The world went white as his fingers closed around the scruff of Kūkaku's cloak, and he only had time to see Benihime's shield bloom like a flower, rich crimson stark against white, before he was launched off his feet and sent soaring through the air.

 

His breath was violently expelled from his lungs when he slammed against the wall and slumped down to the floor, stars erupting in his field of vision.  A loud roar sent his eardrums pulsating to the ripple of the shock wave, followed by a second, more muted blast, then ambient sounds disappeared altogether, only to be replaced with a painful shrillness.  He had no idea how long he might have lain there, flat against the cold stone, sensation sluggishly returning to his limbs. 

 

**_"…up, ge… up…"_ **

 

The first thing he became aware of was the steady pump of his heartbeat radiating through his right fist, which was still tightly clenched around fabric.  The piercing sound persisted, the rest of the world nothing but a faint, muted buzz, as though he were listening in while submerged underwater.  There were shouts somewhere in the distance.  He only registered them as an observation, like he was no longer part of his own body, but a silent onlooker.            

 

**_"Get up, Kisuke."_ **

 

His left hand burned around the handle of Benihime, throbbing in tune with his shallow breaths.

 

**_"Get up, get up…"_ **

 

Clenching his eyelids, he let out a groan while the shrill sound intensified, his breath coming out in a gasp as sound and color and feeling returned to him all at once, his eyes popping open.  Coughing at the motes of dust that clogged his throat, he relaxed his grip on Benihime, pushing himself up to one elbow.  His vision swam for a second, head light and mind still in the course of processing scattered bits of information: the volatile spiritual energy; the blast; his shield still standing in the distance, mostly intact, a steam-like mist clinging to its other side as an aftereffect of the explosion; the rugged fabric bunched up in his—

 

With a start, Kisuke whipped his head to the side, only to find Kūkaku, laid out next to him on her back.  Her eyes stared at the ceiling, unseeing, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her skin glistening with a sheen of sweat.  It was then that he realized he couldn't have lost consciousness for more than a few seconds.  Kūkaku herself didn't seem to have regained her capacities in full; if she had, she would have been screaming at the strange shadow that was quickly crawling its way up her right arm. 

 

 _Shit, shit, SHIT—_ Scrambling up to his knees, Kisuke reached for Kūkaku's arm.  It was a spell that had caused the explosion in that crate, that much was certain now, its aftereffects taking root under her skin and working so methodically, there was little room for doubt as to whether the blast had been an accident.  Recognizing the need to prioritize, Kisuke pushed all irrelevant thoughts out of his head and willed himself to concentrate on the more pressing issue.

 

The spell seemed to have chosen her fingertips as a point of origin, the shadow leaving nothing but necrotic flesh in its wake.  It was no use trying to inject life back into the blackening tissues, they were long gone.  The shadow had crept past her elbow now, and in a desperate attempt to stall for time, Kisuke summoned a surge of energy, meeting it head on.  It felt like a tsunami crashing against a poorly built dam; Kisuke's entire back broke out in sweat as he struggled to hold on, to keep the invading force from advancing any further.

 

There had to be  _something_ , a weakness he could exploit, some way to break down the spell's composition and create its natural opposition.  The spell was custom made, that much was clear as day, but beyond this meager observation, Kisuke had little else to go on.  It was not unlike trying to look in both directions at once: probing the spell's exterior, searching for a point of entry, while simultaneously trying to keep it at bay.  A crudely built spell, he could tell that much, but ingenious in its simplicity.  The irony of this did not escape him.  Given enough time, it shouldn't have been difficult to counter, but its brilliance lay in the fact that it was built to work so fast, any possible weaknesses became irrelevant: it would have taken a monstrous reserve of spiritual power to block its course while simultaneously working on disarming it.  The kind of power he simply did not have.

 

_No, come on, come on… Give me **something**.  There  **has**  to be… something…_

For the first time since regaining awareness he took to his surroundings, sweat trickling down his temple.  There was a number of spiritual signatures in the vicinity, far fewer than there should have been, given the crowd inside the basement before the explosion.  Trying not to dwell on those who had met their demise instantly, Kisuke reached out for the faint traces of energy around him.  Some injured, many more unconscious, but none in a critical state.  Save for Kūkaku. 

 

With the dust settled, he could appreciate the full magnitude of the damage the explosion had caused, showering the floor with shredded wood and the remnants of whatever had been in storage.  The entire stairwell had collapsed, the exit to the rest of the estate sealed shut with debris.  He could hear voices from the other side, but until the way was cleared, he was alone.

"Is it too far gone?"

 

Kisuke's head snapped back toward Kūkaku.  She was staring at him through half-lidded eyes, her cheeks pale and clammy under the shock of dark hair that fell across her forehead.

 

Kisuke tightened his grip on her arm.  "Don't try to speak—"

 

"Is it?"

 

Pursing his lips, Kisuke leaned closer to her, hoping the despair in his eyes was not too transparent.  "I have to stop it before it reaches your heart," he said.

 

She seemed to understand what he was trying to tell her.  Swallowing hard, she nodded, breathing in hard through her nose.  "How… how bad will it be?"

 

 _Like nothing you've ever experienced before._ Reaching for her other hand, Kisuke clasped it tightly into his.  "I'll make it quick."

 

Kūkaku's breathing became more erratic, a tremor in her hand as she tightened her fingers around his.  She seemed to be working herself up for what was coming, and Kisuke wanted to give her more time to mentally prepare herself, but it was taking everything within his power just to keep the shadow at bay.  Whether she sensed this or simply accepted her fate swiftly he didn't know, but Kūkaku released her vise-like grip on him and closed her eyes, giving him a curt nod in okay.

 

True to his word, he made it quick. 

 

Even so, he suspected it felt far longer to her when the beam of kidō tore through flesh and bone.  It took less than a fragment of a second for the shadow to consume the severed limb in its entirety; it dissolved into a cloud of dark mist before it even hit the ground.  Everything else became an afterthought as he focused on stopping the bleeding, every feeling, every sound in the background fading away.  Everything but her scream, which continued to echo somewhere in the far reaches of his mind even after her eyes rolled back and she passed out. 

 

 _Seal off the blood vessels and nerves. A clean cut.  Good, that means no traces of bone fragments._  

 

"KISUKE!"

 

_Reshape the remaining muscle.  Smooth and even.  Just—_

 

"KISUKE!"

 

The hand on his shoulder forced him to swivel around and acknowledge reality.  Yoruichi stood before him, real and whole –and safe,  _SAFE_ — and wild-eyed, and all around her, the world seemed to have come to life again.  Members of the estate staff were already pouring into the basement, and before Kisuke could answer her frantic questions, he felt himself being pushed aside as Kirinji Tenjirō swept down to Kūkaku's side.

 

Plopping down on the floor, watching while Kirinji checked her vital signs, Kisuke felt like the world's greatest idiot.   _What did I do?  What the **hell**  did I just do?  Kirinji was here, I  **knew**  he was here, I should have waited, I shouldn't have—_ 

 

"What the hell just happened?" Yoruichi said, kneeling down next to him, her eyes sweeping from him to Kūkaku and back again in distress.  "We heard the explosion and ran back here—"

 

Running a hand through his hair, Kisuke tried to silence the onslaught of incoming questions and theories in his head that tried to vie for his attention from a thousand different directions.   _Who could have done this?  A seal, you should have tried a seal— Could there be more traps rigged to blow— The target who was the target why Kūkaku— You should have Flashed out of the basement you **idiot** — How many dead— What if I'd opened the lid before she stopped me— You  **knew**  Kirinji was here— Did I remember to seal off the nerves— But why Kūkaku not her it makes more sense if a Shihōin was meant to be the victim—_

 

"You should clear the room," Kisuke said.

 

"I— what?"

 

"The explosion… it was a spell.  Someone sabotaged one of Miss Shiba's crates," Kisuke said.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kirinji glance at him through narrowed eyes.  "I think.  Whatever escaped out of there did the damage to her arm.  There could be more traps rigged; I haven't had the time to check.  We should move the wounded out of the basement and seal it off."

He could tell Yoruichi wanted to rush to her friend's side, but she took his words to heart.  Nodding, she stood up on her feet and got down to business at once.  Though Kisuke kept his eyes on Kūkaku, he could hear Yoruichi in the background, ordering her staff to hurry and move the injured to the upper floors.

 

Kisuke's gaze flitted over to Kirinji.  No longer checking Kūkaku for vital signs, the former Captain was now examining the film of kidō that was wrapped around the end of her severed arm.  Kisuke waited for Kirinji to say something, to admonish him for acting rashly, to comment on his botched amputation perhaps, but he said nothing, a look of intense concentration in his eyes as he examined Kisuke's work. 

 

The silence was going to drive him mad.  "No-one else required medical attention," Kisuke blurted out.  "I… I checked."

 

"Yeah, I figured as much, kid," Kirinji said, still not looking at him.  "What was that thing?  Custom spell?  Hadō type?"

 

"I— Yes, how did you—?"

 

"It's faint, but there are still traces of it left," Kirinji said.  Perhaps sensing Kisuke's oncoming words, he hurried to clarify.  "In the air, not on her wound.  It's a clean cut.  She'll be fine once she wakes up."

 

At the very least, he now had confirmation he hadn't made a complete mess out of this.  Kisuke nodded at the Captain.  "What about the second explosion?  Was anyone hurt?"

 

For the first time since entering the basement, Kirinji turned to acknowledge him, brow furrowed.  "What second explosion?"

 

The intensity in his gaze gave Kisuke pause for a second, but it wasn't enough to make him question what he already knew to be true.  "I heard a second one just before I was blasted away," he said.

 

"You sure you're not concussed, Blondie?"

 

"I am  _positive_ —"

 

A faint cough, followed by an even fainter voice drew both their attentions back to Kūkaku.  "Prototype…"

 

"Oi, Kūkaku," Kirinji said, his voice firm but not unkind.  "Don't try to speak, you've just been—"

 

Looking right past Kirinji, eyes locked on Kisuke, Kūkaku spoke again.  " _Prototype_ … A gift… for Yoru's father…"

 

Her words were too emphasized, too deliberate to be the dismissed as the ramblings of a pain-addled mind.  She was trying to tell him something.   _A gift?  What does this have to do—?  A prototype for study.  That means it could only be in—_  "The Vault," Kisuke said, his eyes snapping wide.  Kūkaku held on to consciousness long enough to give him a firm nod, then let her eyes slip shut again, her jaw clenched.

 

"The hell does that even—?" 

 

"Lord Shihōin is there."

 

Kirinji took the hint at once.  Exchanging a look of alarm with Kisuke, he stood up at once and fell into the fastest, most perfectly executed Flash Step Kisuke had even seen. 

 

He was about to follow, when one of the more persistent voices in his head gripped his attention.  With no information as to how, why and more importantly  _who_  had sabotaged Kūkaku's crates, the situation unfolding in the estate right now was as potentially volatile as a chemical experiment gone off the rails.   ** _Anyone_** _could be behind this._ And if Lord Shihōin had just been—  _No, **NO**.  You do NOT know this, don't make assumptions—_  Either way, protecting Yoruichi and her mother should be first priority right now.  But with so many likely culprits, who could he possibly trust?  Certainly not the Onmitsukidō, or the state guards, or even the rest of the clan.  There was  _no-one_ , not a single—  _No.  There **is**  one person.  Just the one._     

 

The Hell Butterfly landed on his shoulder the second he summoned it forth, and Kisuke turned to it, whispering a succinct but comprehensive account of the situation into its velvety black wings.  The creature gave a gentle flutter in acknowledgement and took off at once.  Waiting for a response was torture, but he couldn't afford to leave until he knew for certain.   _Come on, come on, hurry, **please** —_ No sooner had he formed the thought than the butterfly returned, floating into his waiting hand.  The response was thankfully the one he had been hoping for:   _"I am on my way."_    

 

With a sigh of relief, Kisuke gave Kūkaku's shoulder a gentle squeeze and pushed himself up, about to follow Kirinji, when Yoruichi swooped down upon him, a crease in her brow.

 

"What's going on?  Where did Kirinji go?" she said.

 

Kisuke felt his lips part involuntarily, but he made no sound.  He was certain guilt was written all over his face, and he was scrambling for the words to phrase this so as not to cause her even more alarm.  He had hoped he might be able to distract her with something else to take care of in the basement, but it seemed she had managed to get her staff to clear the room in no time.  There was no-one else left there but the two of them and Kūkaku.

 

"Look, I—" Kisuke hesitated.  "I don't have time to explain, but—"

 

Yoruichi was not fooled.  "Don't give me that crap; what's happening?  What aren't you telling me?"

 

Kisuke clenched his jaw, making one last frantic mental attempt to find some sort of excuse, but his conscience, an entity he could have sworn had abandoned him at the tender age of forty seven, chose this moment to make its triumphant return.  He couldn't lie to her, not about this.  She deserved to know.  "There was a second explosion," he said.  "I think it might have been at the Vault."

 

Yoruichi had no trouble connecting the dots.  Her eyes broadened for a split second, pupils blown wide in horror, but she kept her cool.  "Let's go." 

 

"NO— Nononono, you can't—"

 

" _No_?" Her hand was on him before he could even blink, and he found himself being yanked toward her as she grabbed a fistful of his top.  "You do  _not_  give orders in  _my_  house, Kisuke,  _I_  give orders in my house, so when I say I'm coming with—"

 

"I know, I  _know_ , I'm sorry—" Reaching for her hand, Kisuke gently pried her fist open, a placating expression in his eyes.  "But Yoruichi, we— I don't know what we'll find down there…  And… Just in case…"

 

There was no need to say more.  He could tell by the shift in her eyes that she had understood the implication:   _You are the heir.  If worse comes to worst, **you**  are the clan's leader as of this moment.  And you could be the next target._

 

Nostrils flared, Yoruichi slackened her hold on his shirt, letting her arm drop.  "I can't just…  _sit_  here."

 

"Your entire clan is counting on you to do just that.  For now."

 

His words must have had an effect: Yoruichi seemed to be fighting an inner battle, her legendary stubbornness at war with her rationality.  She tore her gaze away from his, letting out a soft groan as she rubbed her forehead.  He was almost convinced he'd done it, managed to sway her into staying put, but her tenacity had always been an unstoppable force of nature.  "No," she said, meeting his eye again, her jaw set.  "I will  _not_  accept—"

 

Kisuke wished he had more time to talk her down, give her a few better chosen words of comfort, but this was a luxury he could not afford right now.  Before she had even finished her sentence, he Flashed away, making for the exit. 

 

Dropping down on one knee, he clapped his hands together once and slammed them down onto the floor barely a second before Yoruichi got there.  The thick, orange barrier blasted into being between them, bringing her to a screeching halt, betrayal written in her eyes.

 

"WHAT THE  _HELL_  DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

 

"Please just listen—"

 

Now well and truly beside herself, Yoruichi flattened her hands against the barrier, frantically pawing along its surface for any weak spots.  She would find none.  "Undo this  _right_  now, Kisuke," she growled.   "Or I swear I am ending our friendship  _this instant_."

 

The barrier hummed between them and Kisuke locked gazes with her, his determination weakening for just a moment at her words.  Her silhouette rippled behind the orange filter, her features muted, but there was no mistaking the burning fury in her eyes.   

 

His resolve hardened and with it, his expression.  "If that's what it takes."

 

" ** _KISUKE_**!"

 

He could still hear her screaming his name —mixed with a number of choice expletives- as he walked away, hurrying down the corridor. 

 

Somewhere within the agitated crowd flooding the hallway, he managed to locate a face he could trust with this one, last task before he could make his way down to the Vault to meet with Kirinji.  It was Sakumo, one of Yoruichi's personal guards since childhood, and a man Kisuke knew would gladly suffer any horror imaginable before he would ever betray her.

 

"Sakumo!"

 

A hint of surprise colored the man's face upon seeing Kisuke, but it was closely followed by relief.  At the very least, no matter what anyone within the castle might've made of Lord Shihōin's choice to banish him, Kisuke was glad to see Sakumo knew he could be trusted.

 

"Thank goodness you're here; I just found out, what is—?"

 

Kisuke cut him off, flashing him an apologetic grimace.  "Listen to me carefully," he said.  "The Princess is secured in the basement with Lady Shiba.  Have someone send for a few men, choose only people you would trust with your  _life_.  Half of them, the most competent of the group, should get to Lady Shihōin's chambers at once and the rest of you should stay here at the entrance.  No-one approaches the basement.  If anyone tries to break the barrier even after being warned, detain them.  Kill them, if need be."

 

He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that there was no man or woman within the castle capable of shattering his barrier.  But anyone who so much as tried was to be considered a suspect.  Yoruichi would be safe for now, until the only person capable of dispelling his bakudō made it to the castle.

 

"I've sent word to Tsukabishi Tessai, he should be arriving shortly," Kisuke went on.  "Please make certain he will be granted entry to the complex and the estate.  Once he arrives, you listen to everything  _he_  has to say and follow it to the  _letter_.  Do not allow the Onmitsukidō to call the shots, or the estate guards, only  _Tessai_.  Trust no-one else."

 

Sakumo's eyes grew progressively broader the more Kisuke spoke.  "You… you don't honestly think—?"

 

" _No-one_ , do you understand me?" Kisuke said, leaning closer to Sakumo.  "Not a  _single_  soul.  The Princess, Lady Shihōin and Lady Shiba are not to be trusted with anyone else unless Tessai himself permits it."

 

Kisuke waited just long enough to see Sakumo give him a nod in response, then clapped his shoulder once.  "Good man.  Don't forget what I said."  With a Flash, he was off to the stairwell leading down to the Vault.

 

The air was thick with dust as he hurried down the steps, and he was both glad and dismayed to see he had been proven right.  Sheltering his eyes and mouth with one arm, he pushed through the clamoring guards that blocked the narrow passage, until he came face-to-face with Kirinji.

 

The crate hadn't even made it to the Vault, it seemed.  Judging from the scattered wood and debris that littered the floor, the second explosion had gone off right there, in the corridor.  There were no other bodies that he could see, injured or otherwise, save for the one laid out on the floor before Kirinji: Lord Shihōin.  The front of his kimono was stained scarlet, and Kirinji's hands were plunged into the gaping hole that was his chest cavity.

 

Something inside Kisuke went stone cold at the sight, his body reacting before his mind could reassure him that there was still a signature in the air, the spiritual presence was not gone.  But it was weak, and growing fainter by the second. 

 

"Is there… is there anything…?" he began to say, unable to finish his sentence.

 

Kirinji's head snapped up at the sound of his voice.  "Fuck's sake, Blondie, only took you  _forever_ , get in here," he said.

 

"Wha—?"

 

"He'll live," Kirinji said, and despite the strain evident in his flushed, sweat-soaked face, his voice carried no uncertainty.  "But I need a second set of hands.  C'mere."

 

Kisuke hurried over, dropping to his knees beside Kirinji.  "I had to make certain the Princess was sec—"

 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Kirinji said, and without warning, slipped one scarlet-stained hand out to grip Kisuke's wrist.  "Get your hands in there.  I need you to plug up the descending aorta.  I assume you know what the hell I'm talking about?"

 

"I— Yes, of course."  Keeping his eyes resolutely away from Lord Shihōin's pale face, Kisuke did as he was told, slipping his hand through the still warm – _Warm, it's WARM,_   _thank goodness-_  organs.  Careful not to unwittingly cause more damage, he reached around until his fingers were pressing at the point right next to Kirinji's hand.  He could feel the remnants of kidō in the surrounding tissues, but oddly enough, the trace of whatever it was that had caused this injury didn't match the spell that had been inflicted on Kūkaku.  "It's not... This injury was caused from a different spell."

 

"Yes, yes it was.  You got it?" Kirinji said.

 

Kisuke nodded.  "You can let go."

 

Kirinji pulled his other hand free and Kisuke moved his fingers to replace his at once, grateful for the weak, but steady pulse of Lord Shihōin's heartbeat beneath his fingertips.  He expected to be given more instructions, but Kirinji turned away, snapping his fingers at once of the guards looking on in horror.

 

"You, short round," he told the guard standing nearest to them.  "Three things: one, have your estate healer send a stretcher down here.  Two, arrange for transportation to Shiba Kūkaku's, and three, send a message to them to prep the canon."

 

 _The canon…?_   So Lord Shihōin was going to be transported to the Royal Realm?  The situation certainly seemed dire enough; Kisuke had to admit that upon first sight, he had immediately assumed that Lord Shihōin was too far gone to save.  If there was any way he might be healed, it could only be there, in Kirinji's realm.  And he was certainly an important enough man to merit the trip.    

 

The guard was startled out of his stupor upon being spoken to.  "Send… send a message to…?"

 

"Fuck if I know, whoever's available!" Kirinji said.  "Just make sure they know we're coming!"

 

"Try the Shiba manor," Kisuke said, glancing up at the guard.  He sought Kirinji's eye next, the former Captain arching an eyebrow at him.  "Shiba Kaien should be there, he will know what to do."

 

Kirinji nodded.  "Yes, that.  Do that," he said, addressing the guard again.  "Let them know they should be expecting three passengers."

 

The guard gave Kirinji a somewhat tremulous bow, then slipped away through the throng of men surrounding the scene.

 

"Three?" Kisuke said.  "Are you taking Lady Yor—?"

 

Kirinji shook his head at Kisuke.  "I told you I need a second set of hands, didn't I?" he said.  There was a very odd, almost appraising look in his eyes as he seized him up.  "You're coming with."

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there's one thing Kisuke has always refused to do, it's play by someone else's rules. And yet I've always found it very curious how, in TBTP, he simply went along with the flow, looking almost apologetic for the fact that he had made it to Captain. It's not until his talk with Shinji that he decides to take charge. In storytelling terms, Kisuke in the modern timeline has always been a very proactive character, instead of reactive, like, say, Ichigo. 
> 
> This, of course, is the result of a few centuries of experience coupled with a brilliant mind, but what happens when said mind suddenly finds itself directionless? At this juncture in his life (that is, the way I've set it up), Kisuke is quite literally adrift, and I wanted to explore this tangent, since TBTP has already paved the way for it. 
> 
> Originally, he wasn't even meant to join the 4th Division at all, just be Unohana's errand boy for a few months to justify him snooping around their library. It certainly would've made his healing Kūkaku more impressive, but I couldn't resist exploring the dynamic between Unohana and Kisuke in future chapters, as I feel they have a lot in common. Editing that change in and altering my planned timeline is part of the reason why it took so long to update. So again, apologies, but once the idea came to me, I couldn't let it go.
> 
> Considering Ichigo held out against a Gillian-level Menos Grande in episode 14 of the anime (remember that time when HOLLOWS were the biggest threat in Bleach?), it might seem silly to claim a member of the Royal Guard actually had to deal something like that. But here's the thing, this is actually canon! When Rukia is terrified at the sight of that Menos in early episodes, she mentions that very fact, and this is why I had Kirinji be Yoruichi's Shunpo master in earlier chapters. The idea here is that he knows Yoruichi's father, and continued to maintain a relationship, visiting every now and then when his duties brought him passing through Soul Society to the Material World (which was when he stole some time away to tutor Yoruichi). The Shibas, of course, know all members of the Royal Guard since they handle the transport.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this, see you again in the next instalment!


End file.
